Ghosts

[kersplunk]

They say places, like ghosts, have memories.

Everything that touches them leaves an etching, no matter how subtle. Many of them are mere specters lingering silently just beyond the senses, like the remnants of a fading dream passing from memory in the moments after waking. They linger as a distant echo, unnoticed and forgotten by all, until some innocuous thing stirs the memory, a tide receding to reveal the imprint of something normally hidden from view, witnessed most often only by the stars and wind.

"You... You reminded me who I used to be."

The garden north of Baldur’s Gate was deserted tonight, its greenery swaying gently in a summer breeze, dancing to the song of crickets for an audience of none. A star-riven sky shone through the wispy tendrils of drifting clouds, in tandem with a pink moon low on the horizon bathing the scene in a soft, ethereal glow. Torchlight along the parapets of the city walls in the distance accented the silhouetted horizon, moving with the patrols keeping their vigil in these troubled times.

A horse nickered from the other direction, stamping its foot from within a corral, startling a raccoon that was crossing by the fountain. It reared up onto its hind legs, sniffing at the air in the direction of the sound, nose twitching as it wrung its paws together by the silent fountain. Once satisfied that there was no threat, it hopped onto the nearby wooden bench, inspecting the area for any sign of something one of the city’s citizens might have abandoned the previous day for it to scavenge.

The seat, it noticed, was warm.

”Without you here… I don’t want to be here.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves clinging to the marble columns of the gazebo surrounding the foliage. The raccoon darted off, unbothered by its failure to find an easy meal. The pale mirror of the still water in the fountain distorted the pale moonlight’s reflection as ripples silently echoed throughout the pool.

There was the old adage, the question of the tree falling in a forest with no one around to hear it. Whether such things were dependent upon being observed was something that perhaps no mortal mind could truly answer with any certainty. And just the same, paradoxically, had there been anyone around this garden tonight to witness the way the wind almost sounded like voices conversing, faint and faraway as they were, perhaps they might also wonder if it had truly happened.

"...chance I don't know that I deserve at a price I don't know if I can live with..."

The greenery stilled. A cloud passed over the moon, dimming the pale glow over the fountain in shadow. The water continued to gently ripple, slowly calming to stillness again through the fading echoes of the wind that had disturbed it. A whippoorwill’s droning cry sounded from the woods far to the west, repeating its plaintive cry without response.

"I promised you..."

A blanket of stillness fell over the garden. The droning chirps and hums of the insects dulled to a whisper as the moon’s reflection on the fountain’s pool solidified, wavering ever so softly with the lingering ripples. Time seemed to stand still, this moment frozen, as though the garden were locked away in another realm, tucked away in the corners of memory. Teardrops lost in rain.

Then another gentle breeze rustled the leaves again. The empty bench was still warm.

”Your memories… aren’t your destiny…”

[kersplunk]

A young woman once stood before the temple shrine. She folded her hands, bowed her head over a heavy heart.

"Broken Lord.... hear my prayer. I'm.... I'm desperate. I don't know where else to turn right now."

She drew in another breath, shakily, then exhaled more steadily, wiping a tear from her eye as she continued in her murmured prayer.

"Grant me the... the strength to persevere."

"Guide me through these trials before me. Take my burdens on your shoulders and help me to live up to my promise."

"Be w-with...."

She swallowed, her face twisting a bit before she managed to go on.

"Remember his sacrifice at the end of his service, whenever that may be. Honor him as a martyr in your image, that he took my p-place.... i-in... in...."

A shudder overtook her and she covered her face with her hands, and began to weep softly.

"F-forgive me, Sabyn... Gods h-help me... Make m-me strong..."

The smell of ash and charred flesh. Blood. Bones. A visage of a man in a blank mask, facing down four people from across a smoke filled room. Staring emotionlessly.

"It won't bring your family back. No one will learn anything. You'll only be branded as a monster.... and for what?"

"It is beyond my control now."

"Then let us help you.”

"I... don't know how."

The heat of a temple deep within a mountain, surrounded by tended flames.

"The first time she saw me burn a man alive… She begged me to stop. Regardless of how much he deserved it."

"...There's a monster in all of us, Kassux. The only thing that sets us apart from the real ones is what we choose to do about it."

"I've tried for many many years.”

”It never gets any easier.”

”The closest thing to an apology I could find was the pain in the eyes of those who begged me to stop. I thought it would bring me closer to absolution… But I am not much different from them.”

”Kossuth will hold me accountable for that."

”. . . . .”

"...I asked you who you will choose to be when this is all over... For me, the answer is simple."

”...A father.”

The same woman came to the temple many times. She always offered the same prayer, the same supplications, and yet each time she departed, not once did she leave with a lighter burden. Yet her prayers became increasingly sterile over time, the words eventually losing their weight, her eyes shedding fewer tears with each visit.

The final time she came to offer her prayers, there was only one witness to the way she trailed off midway through, unbeknownst to her. And for all she knew, it was not any of the gods.

Her folded hands lowered as she lifted a solemn, unmoved countenance to peer at the shrine that seemed to mock her in its silence, several moons even before the gods themselves were known to fall from their heavenly seats, shrouding the world in chaos.

The young woman stared in equal, measured silence right back, a hint of dejected defiance deep beneath her blank, distant eyes, her prayer incomplete.

As she turned to abandon this ritual she had kept up for a year since it happened, she only muttered a single phrase under her breath.

“...You never answer me, anyway.”

[kersplunk]

A dismal keep tower of drab stone. Two female figures, one buxom, blond, and beautiful, another shrouded in gray robes, peering out with sinister black eyes from her hood. They seemed to be arguing lightly.

”Morgan, sister... Surely we can find someone prettier than this frumpy bar wench. I mean, look at the size of her nose!”

”Silence. She is the one.”

The figures were flanking a third woman, seated at a desk, staring in dismay at an open tome that pulses with a malevolent aura of shadow. The woman trembled softly in fear. A quill of macabre, twisted steel, its point sharper than a dagger, lay beside the book. Her expression was locked in one of hopeless indecision.

”Fine, but if you take this vessel then I will never let you live it down.”

”Because she is ugly?”

”People do judge books by their covers.”

The blond woman smiled sweetly at the hooded figure, glancing to the seated, paralyzed auburn haired figure. A faint glitter in her eyes, unnoticed by her darker, sinister counterpart, betrayed her lie.

The dark robed figure scoffed.

”I can rework the parts I don't like. Sign it, child.”

"If I do this… will you leave everyone else alone?"

”Yes.”

A trembling hand went to pick up the quill, holding its point on her fingertip, hesitating. The seated woman fought to keep her composure, while a sickening gleeful grin twisted beneath the dark hood looming over her.

"...What… happens to me if you do die, Morgan…?"

”Untold power shall be yours.”

"That's... That's not important to me."

”But your friends are important... that's what you need to remember.”

"..."

”What is to ensure that she does not run and tell them about this?”

”I care not. Her body will belong to me, another pretty little vessel through which to live on.”

A hand slithered out from the robes, veined with gnarled black tendrils like tattoos, caressing the young woman’s cheek. She flinches away.

”...if I do this… you let me go. And never so much as look at any of my friends.”

”My dear girl… I will not touch your friends, so long as they stay away from me. YOU will be their only doom.”

”I still say you’re wasting your time.”

The dark figure seethed, spitting venomous words to break the silence like a whip crack.

”Do it.”

The seated woman jumped. Her lips pressed together tightly as her expression twisted inward, turning her face away from the quill’s point on her finger. Pressure gradually pushed her skin to breaking as she whispered:

"I'm sorry..."

A meadow, lush and verdant. Golden sunlight bathes the petal-strewn landscape in a dreamlike, soothing glow. A spritely, feylike man smiles impishly down at a small gathering of adventurers, bloodied and battered. The young woman lies in a makeshift stretcher, unable to walk, her face shredded beyond recognition and covered in bandages. Her left leg had been splinted and immobilized. Still she looks up at the figure, her uncovered eye brimming with hope and an unmistakable spark of life… a small smile touching her lips.

”Look at her. She godsdamned near killed herself doing what you asked of her.”

”I’m all right.”

”Don’t be stupid. I did what I could but I don’t know how long it will be before you can walk again.”

”If that’s what it takes to get my life back.”

”Does that mean jumping down a dark hole blindly after someone who agreed to go alone, too?”

”It does if it’s someone I care about. You all came with me, you didn’t have to. I wouldn’t abandon you like that, not after this. You jump, I jump.”

”...You’re really a stubborn piece of work, you know that?”

”Kinda. We didn’t do all this work for the past moons just to quit at the end, did we?”

”. . .”

”You have served us well. We are pleased with your offerings, and we have come to sympathize with your plight.”

”The Seelie Court will be delighted, as will all of our fey brethren, to accept you into our fold.”

”I have found you a supporter at the Court. One more suited than I to your line of thinking. An arch fey treant.”

”And will they treat her well?”

”For all of her days, Morgan Blackrose shall not touch her. We will defend all of her being as earnestly as she has served us.”

”I will never forget this, Puck…”

”Go now as one of our own.”

An opulent bedroom. A young woman standing before a couch, sweat pouring from her body, soaking her clothes, pooling on the floor. She claws at her head, teeth gritted in agony, desperate and terrified.

”...you want this all to stop? The voices… the heat… the pain…? Give in to it my child… Embrace the fury within you…”

"Who... Why.... What..."

A vision of a book shrouded in swirling shadows, handed from a sinister robed figure to a towering, massive, corpulent wall of red flesh and pustules…

”Your blood, your soul… they belong to me, rightfully.”

The woman’s eyes snap open in horror. Her fingers remain locked as rictus claws flanking her head, the color draining further from her already pallid face.

"The... Seelie..."

Her breath catches, her voice trembling.

"I-I.... pacted... You h-have no... No claim...."

Convulsions. She falls to the floor, writhing in agony. An otherworldly, disembodied chuckle rumbles in the room.

”The book was handed to me before you pacted... you are torn between two... soon the Seelie will be dead.”

"W-Who... are y-you...?"

”I am the Demon Prince. Lord of the Undead.”

"...n-no..."

The woman wails, desperately, hopelessly, tears mingling with the sweat pouring from her.

"No. No no no no no no no noooo… Why? W-why me? Wh-what have I..."

Fire suddenly engulfs the room in a roaring, insatiable inferno.

”You were the promised payment. Your name, signed in your own blood.”

Voices from without. Unintelligible, muffled, as though from worlds away. Panicked scrambling and shouts, unable to reach her.

"...what do you want from me."

”Accept the pact. Renounce your former life and spare the Seelie, the Gate... or I will come myself to your world to finish this.”

The woman curls tighter into herself, holding her hands in her abdomen, rocking back and forth, slowly shaking her head, muttering to herself as the room continues to burn.

”...Carah…!”

"Spare them... I'll go.... This is my fault.... it's all my fault.... it's.... it's all my fault...."

”Give in. Be the reason your friends survive. And all will be saved.”

"Please... I beg you… Take me. Spare them."

THE ROOM SUDDENLY BECOMES DEATHLY QUIET.

”I accept.”

[kersplunk]

Once a focal point of merriment and joy in Baldur’s Gate, the posh Lewd Lyre north of the Wide market now stood silent, dim glows in its windows looking forlornly out through the droning rainfall pattering on the merchants’ stalls as they went about gathering and securing the wares they could not peddle before darkness fell. None of the few people out braving the dismal weather tonight gave the building so much as a second glance, barely noticing the way it loomed over them, a silent reminder of better days.

The bricks of the building’s edifice, built out of the city’s interior wall separating the East Gate district from the Palace District, timeless in their warded stillness, shed the rainwater like tears. Its gaunt face continued to watch the dwindling crowd retreat to the safety and warmth of their hearths and families, blissfully unconcerned with the haunted echoes the bricks held back.

The rain could fall forever, and it may never carry away the taint that stained the stonework.

A mob, whipped into a furious rage, bristling with burning torches and farming implements. They surge insistently over and over towards the edifice of the building, marred by a gaping hole in its roof, yawning towards an angry crimson and ochre sky, the crowd’s advances barely held in check by a line of armed and armored Flaming Fist soldiers as they scream vengefully for blood.

”They brought this on us!”

”Death to the demon worshippers!”

”Drive them out! Kill them all!”

”Our children! Our lives! Our city!”

”It’s them or us! Their fault! Their fault!”

”Come on, lads! Let’s give ‘em what for!”

Effigies are afire in several places about the city, within and without. Reports of bodies found strung up by their necks about the Harbor District flow through the city watch, hung with signs spouting crudely painted slogans such as “Demon Filth.” One of the bodies was reported to be a legally registered warlock known to serve a benign water elemental.

Graffiti has appeared on various houses as fear spreads through the incensed population. No one suspected of associating with demons, fairly or not, are spared the hateful slogans, warding sigils, and warnings to leave the city or die.

A forest grove at twilight. Eerie moonbeams danced through the foliage. A man and a woman faced down a satyr that was smirking whimsically at the pair as he casually paced back and forth on cloven hooves, idly chasing after moths like a carefree youth. The large, heavily muscled man sat on a fallen log, fingers tented before his chin, elbows on his knees, an intent stare fixed on the fey. The woman stood stiff, hands clenched at her sides tightly, tears stinging eyes that burn with incredulous indignation.

"I am not hopeful for you, no no. Not at all! To agree? It must have been a moment for you and him… yes…"

"A moment betwe– What!? I was forced! What other choice did I have!? I spared them! I saved them! And you’re going to do nothing about it!?"

"You see, it is a very serious business, this pact thing.”

“It may be you can consider another Pact, one strong enough or wise enough to know a way to influence Orcus, and convince him to yield. I must say I am not sure there is any good news here.”

”She HAD a pact with a member of the Summer Court! It was not a moment between them, it was her sacrificing herself for her patron, the patron YOU gave her, and for the people of Baldur’s Gate!”

”Yes, yes, very noble, very selfless. But no one here underestimates that one.”

”...You’re afraid of him.”

”We simply have our own interests to look after, yes, yes.”

"So you're telling me that the Seelie Court is going to simply hide when one of their own is beat near to death and their servant stolen, and let it be declared amongst the planes that such is fair game without any level of retribution of any kind, or wrath, or even a struggle? That Lord Oberon and Lady Titania are content with letting one of their higher court powerful enough to deliver powers to a Pact Bearer nearly die, and WOULD have died if not for the sacrifice of that Bearer of her soul to Orcus, and they are just going to let that go by... without a challenge. Without a whisper. Nothing."

"Not even when handed a chance to pull her from this... her WILLINGLY binding herself back to the Seelie Court... and humiliate the being that gave them that bruise and hurt. That the Seelie Court is simply now going to dismiss and discard their faithful servant and tell their Courtier no, sorry, your harm is not worth avenging, and your servant is not worth saving."

"This is the message of the Seelie Court to its followers?"

”The Seelie Court, bruised and damaged over this as it is, has no intention of seeing more harm done than already has been. I am not inclined to convince them otherwise. No, your predicament is your own, yes.”

The satyr stared straight at the woman in mock sympathy, his eyes taunting her with self-satisfied smugness that stood in stark contrast with the affected look of pity.

”And while I do not envy your position… I do wish you well with it."

The woman shook her head slowly in disbelief, staring dumbly at the satyr. Her voice came in a flat, accusing hiss.

"I don't believe you. I simply can… not… believe you. Yes, it's true that I came to you the first time practically begging for your help. For your protection. I did everything you asked of me. I bore the shame of being interrogated day after day by people who didn't trust my motives before they'd lift a finger to back me up. I jumped through every gods-damned hoop you asked of me. I nearly died fetching you your stupid pipes.” I served you in EVERY WAY you asked of me, and now one of your own was very nearly destroyed.”

"But none of that matters to you, does it? I'm a bloody pawn to you. That's all I ever was. Fine. Turn your back on me and hide from the trouble just like everyone else."

The woman looked over the satyr, glowering with utter contempt. Sneering, she turned on her heel and departed. The satyr watched her leave.

"But of course it looks like she is tainted already, yes. I wonder.”

The man stood, then, looking down his nose at the remaining figure. He turned his back on the fey, leaving it alone in the glade with a muttered:

”...You absolute coward.”

”...Holy shite... Lassie ye scared the bloody hells outta us…”

”...That’s not piking HER.”

”...there won’t be any more undead attacks…”

”...all looks rather suspicious, doesn’t it?”

”...piss on the lot of ye, she’s the one responsible!”

”...oi, yeh can shut the hells up too, ye gods damned…”

"...needs to stop just… jumping to conclusions...."

”...weren't yanked into some piking place with demonfire and spit back out with a well, see you later..."

”...don’t want to talk about that…”

”...demons got what they were after, didn’t they?”

”...You’re welcome, on behalf of all of us…”

”Bah! What did YOU do, you knife eared…”

”...more than any help your kind has ever…”

”...I do hope we have not found ourselves on opposing sides of this conflict…”

”...is that what you think of me now?”

”...what did ye DO, lass..!”

”...what have you done with her…”

”...you look radiant as ever… Silver linings, my dear, silver linings!

”...let the mages do their jobs, you rabble…”

”...too risky, it’s her fault, she brought this on us…”

”I always KNEW those people were up to no good…”

"...please stop..."

”Name one thing you’ve EVER done that wasn’t fluffing your own ego!”

”...have made it worse, she’s but their agent…”

”...agree… she cannot be trusted, her soul is damned... perhaps her blood will…”

”This isn’t you…”

”...Just leave me alone.”

[kersplunk]

An abandoned cottage at twilight. Damp, stagnant air permeated the timber within, the smell of mildew and rot overwhelming. Filthy sheets on a forgotten, lopsided four-poster bed, a termite-infested armoire in the corner with a single candle burning, perhaps the remnant of a squatter who had sought shelter here before the decaying house’s memories chased him out. The night was still and silent. An unsettling sense of foreboding hung in the air as this place relived its disquieted dreams over and over again.

The flame, however, almost seemed to cast the flickering shadow of an ashen-haired woman sitting on the long-disused mattress, staring into nothing, although the room was empty.

"I have nothing left to give."

A black-haired, emerald-eyed man with a severe expression seemed to stand in the doorway, old floorboards creaking in protest under his ghostly footfalls. The woman, the owner of the shadow that the single candle’s flame had cast, turned her head at the sound, noting the other figure's presence, before her attention turned towards the ceiling.

Slowly, she gestured towards the sagging rafters overhead.

For an instant, another memory. The room was warm, bathed in the warm glow of a fire, the handmade furniture tended to, well used, lived in. From the rafters, a glimpse of a gray-faced man, tongue lolled out, eyes bulging and rolled grotesquely back into his skull. The rope around his bent neck bit into his flesh as he swung in an unfelt breeze. Mockingly.

In a flash, all is as it was before, empty, forgotten, abandoned.

”See that?”

”...That’s where he did it, huh?”

”...Never thought I could hate an inanimate object so much.”

”You can’t keep blaming yourself for that.”

”I never would have been in this mess if it hadn’t been for him.”

The stern looking man worked an adamantine fang over his lower lip, sucking his teeth for a moment as he looked up at the empty, bent rafter. Some moments of silence passed before he looked to her again, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed opposite her, watching her calmly.

"I can understand why you did it… if not the what of it."

The woman turned her eyes slowly to fix on the coarse-stubbled, chiseled face. She stared at him silently, devoid of feeling. The man lifted his hands in quiet surrender, not averting his gaze.

"You don't have to tell me, either. It won't change what I think, or what I do. But know that no matter what you say, I'll not judge, or spurn or lecture. I know whatever you did, you did because you felt in your heart it was the only choice."

”...No.”

She turned away. The man frowned at her, staying his hand from reaching out to her as her flat response came in a whisper.

”There’s… always a choice. And I made mine.”

"They've broken me."

The man sighed slowly, pulling a flask from his surcoat as he stood up and paced across the rotted floorboards again, taking a swig before screwing the cap back onto it, and dragging his hand across his roughened cheek.

The woman closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she shook her head.

”I made it a long time ago. I thought I was protecting them… and the way they look at me for it... I should have just accepted it in the first place.”

The man whirled, fixing her with a hard stare, marching back over to the bedside, standing over her with an accusing finger pointed down at him.

”Don’t. You think it would have stopped with you? You think Morgan would have just given up and rolled over, never taken another name? No. She would have just moved on to another when she was finished with you. You did what you thought was right.”

The woman turned her eyes up towards him, expressionless, unimpressed. She stood slowly, staring right back into his eyes, and despite her comparatively smaller stature, utterly dominated the room with her presence. The man stepped back a pace.

"And where did that get us, Flint?”

She advanced on him a step.

"Nowhere. In the end... It got us nowhere. Morgan, or whatever the hells her real name is, is still out there doing gods know what. The things I had to do, the ways I had to debase myself when nobody took me seriously... and now look. The undead attacks. The portals. The balors. And all we have to show for it is endless misery, and a city of people screaming for the head of the monster that brought all this on them… my head.”

"They didn’t take me seriously before. Why would they start now?"

She deflated, her shoulders slumping as she shook her head.

"...It was all for nothing."

The man glowered, but backed up under her advance even as he tried to stand up taller to look down on her.

”You refused to give up on me even when I gave you ever reason to. Don’t you give up on yourself, now.”

The woman scoffed and turned away, folding her arms. Her reply came more morosely.

”...It’s too late for me. This is all because of me.”

”Oh, please. You’re not a goddess. You didn’t make this happen… things just happen. You couldn’t have foreseen it, and I know we’d make the same choice all over again if we had to.”

”...we?”

The woman turned her head, arching an eyebrow, fixing him with a cool stare.

”How’d that work out, again?”

The man rubbed at his face again, deflating as he looked at the floor.

”...All the people that chose to help you. Yes, scores of them turned their backs on you. But don’t insult the rest of us that didn’t.”

Green eyes lifted to meet hers again, resigned.

”I… I hate how we ended. You deserved better.”

The woman rolled her eyes, sneering as she looked away again.

”No, I didn’t. I thought I could be a better person when I came here. I thought I could change. All I was doing was delaying it. I'm finished fooling myself. I'm done trying for nothing. This is what I am now."

"This was my last attempt to protect the rest of you from what's been following me. I do this, and the rest of those ungrateful, sniveling, self-absorbed shits in the Gate can go on with their pitiful lives, ignorant of what they've avoided."

"All I've ever done is give. And they just take."

"You've always been the best person I know… sometimes to a fault. But I've always admired your strength. Even if I was too weak to admit it…”

The man sighed quietly.

”This isn't over. There is always still a chance. And I won't be giving up. Even if I have to do it alone."

She arched an eyebrow at him in open disdain.

”I can’t stop you. But I won’t stop myself from saying I told you so, either.”

"You could. Let's face it, you could blast me through the wall and leave me a broken husk right now… but you won't. Because… I think… a part of you still hopes… even if that hope terrifies you."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and her voice lowered to a hiss.

"Don't you pretend to know what's going on in my head.”

"I just want to live whatever life I've got left in bloody peace. Just… just for a little while."

He shrugged, unscrewing his flask and taking another swig.

"If there is anyone that could make a guess it would be me. And I think…"

He hesitated for a moment, the flask lingering around his lips. But then he looked her in the eyes, bracing himself. He stood a little taller by the end of his reply.

"I think you're afraid of that hope, because you know it will be messy. It will be rougher than anything we've ever done. It will be dangerous. And there is a chance of failure. But I'm willing to take that chance."

She bowed up on him, her eyes flaring wide with a dim purple glimmer as her face twisted and balking in open, unapologetic scorn.

"Afraid!? You want to accuse me of being afraid?!”

An unsettling, incredulous laugh of bitter sardonicism cut the air, its dearth of mirth painfully evident. She advanced a step on him again, the dim light in the room seeming to darken further, an oppressive weight of power thrumming just beyond the range of hearing, centered on her.

"Why you self-righteous… pompous… arrogant little bastard. I've stood up for all of you more times than I can count even when it scared the hells out of me. All the times I defended you when nobody else would, the times I should have turned you in for what you were, for what you did… and for what? How did you thank me for that?”

She shook her head, balling her fists at her side, advancing on him another pace.

”I’m not afraid. Not anymore. All this time, if I’ve been afraid of anything, it’s been seeing people hurt. Of being the person hurting them again. I’ve been afraid of making the choices that should have been made, because I’ve been afraid of how it would affect others. Afraid of slipping back into a person I so foolishly thought I could be better than."

"Afraid, Flint... of being like you."

She glared daggers at him, unwavering, unapologetic, unrelenting.

"And look where it has gotten me.”

He endured the tirade, accepting every barb. For an instant it looked like he was going to crack, but then he seemed to look into her eyes again, remembering who this was, his determination endured. His voice softened.

"It's okay to be afraid, Carah… but what isn't okay is to let that fear control you. You taught me that, and it is the hardest lesson I have ever had to learn."

He swallowed hard but never looked away.

"The worst thing that we could do now is give up. You may not–”

He never finished. The woman’s hands thrust forward, and with sharp thunderous CRACK, a searing bolt of churning, sickly-colored energy lanced out from her palms. A flash of unearthly violet light blinded the room for an instant as it slammed into his chest with a concussive thud, rendering all other sounds in the decrepit room mute for several seconds thereafter.

The man was thrown off his feet, careening clear over the bed to smash headfirst into the far wall. Rotten boards crumpled under his bone-crushing impact, moist splinters and insect egg sacs flying in all directions in a hazy cloud as he collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor.

The woman walked over to where he lay, now the one towering over him, and pointing a rigid finger at her victim, her face twisted in a mask of barely-held-in-check fury. She spoke to him in a tone so cold that her words froze the air between them. Every word was a venomous, controlled hiss, every breath poisoned with indignant hate.

"Don't. Lecture. Me. On fear controlling you… Zhent."

The broken man laid there, rolling over with a labored groan as he touched a tentative, trembling hand to a gash on his head. Pulling it away to look at the blood staining his fingers, he turned his eyes back up to the woman standing over him, her fists clenched, her stance defiant and almost predatory.

”...it’s… not… not too late, Carah…”

A tense silence hung over the pair, the woman's fingers curling into claws, still crackling with latent eldritch energy as she looked down her nose at the man in a heap before her, hands raised in plaintive supplication. After what seemed an eternity, the man bowed his head, closing his eyes, preparing to accept a killing blast, resigning himself to his fate.

But with a final scoff, the woman turned her back on him, shoving aside the creaking door on its broken hinges. As she left him alone in the abandoned cabin, her parting words drifted back to him as he lost consciousness, and the memory faded.

”...You couldn't change, either, Flint.”

”...Lass?”

”I’m here.”

”Oh… good. I was… startin’ to worry. Ye all right?”

”I’m fine, Emrys.”

”...are ye sure? You… want to talk?”

”No.”

”. . .”

”I have work to do.”

”...ye know I’m… I’m here for yeh, lass.”

”. . .”

The cottage remained silent and forgotten in the forest, the hot summer night contrasted by the droning of the insects and the gentle thrum of the nearby waterfall.

The door swung open in a breeze, groaning in slow, agonizing protest, revealing the blackness within. Calling to the empty woods around it, to the silent ghosts wandering the trails, to bear witness to its haunted memories.

[kersplunk]

The woman sat alone in a wooden tub, slowly lathering herself with the steaming water, her gaze fixated on some indistinct point on the wall across from the door to a wood-paneled, dimly lit room, unoccupied by anyone else. The trickle and steady drip of the bath water was the only sound that broke the stillness, the absent, nigh-somnambulant motions of the sponge leaving streaks of suds across her bare back and shoulders the only thing that disturbed the water’s surface in their listless, restless motions.

Drip…

She faced away from the door, her thick hair bundled up with a leather throng to keep it dry. Her eyes were open, yet saw nothing before her. There was no one to speak to in the steam-filled room, so she remained silent, accompanied only by the flickering light of the candelabra in the far corner.

Drip…

The inn was quiet tonight. Not even the dull sounds of conversation could be heard through the thin walls. It was only her, her thoughts, and the slow, relentless trickle of the water. She leaned away from the edge of the tub, bending forward to slowly rub her face in her hands, exposing the flesh of her back to the open air.

...Drip…

The skin of her back, previously unmarred, began to part along several curving lines as though being carved by multiple, invisible hands, inhuman in their steadiness. It swelled and reddened along the cuts, forming patterns and circles to complete a demonic crest, a brand of ownership. All the while she remained still, curled into herself, as the room seemed to fade away, leaving only a dim, smoldering flash of ember red as the crest completed itself.

She was marked.







"...No."

Lava slowly oozing from crevices in the earth slowly bubbled and churned in a slow-motion, self-stirring soup, radiating scaling heat into the otherwise cool night air high up in the mountains. Two women stood squared off from one another along the volcanic crater’s edge, one with cold eyes and snow white hair, the other’s warmer and hair the color of ash. Both glared at one another, hands at their sides, stances wide, waiting for the other to make a move.

”Seriously? We’re going to have to do this the hard way, Sarah with no ‘S’?”

The white-haired woman with the cruel eyes smirked smugly as she made her self-assured threat. Her target, however, was not intimidated.

"I want to see you try it. I want to see the look on your face when you realize just how separated from reality your mouth is. You want me in that volcano, you’re going to have to throw me in."

White hair rolled her eyes with and showy scoff of being annoyed. She took a few steps to the side, looking at the ground, hands on hips, shaking her head. And then suddenly, her heel dug into the ground with a lightning fast kick, sending a spray of rocky scree into her opponent’s face. The other woman turned her head in surprise, shielding her face with her hands, and in that moment, the white haired one was on her. Daggers flashed, biting into flesh, scraping against bone in her back and flank.

With a scream of agony, the ashen-haired woman jerked away, flesh ripping and blood flowing as the cutting edges bit again on the way out. What followed, however, was worse.

Hands flung out to either side of her, the ashen haired woman’s scream morphed into an inhuman, shrieking song of primal discord, her face twisting in rage as she searched for her enemy along the rocks. The air about her began to cyclone, whipping rapidly into a furious storm. The skies opened, lightning flashed, rain fell from a previously cloudless night, hissing angrily as it struck the surface of the lava pool nearby. Otherworldly light began to gather into her palms, thrumming with power, and as she sang her soul-chilling siren’s song, a violent pulse of force shot out in all directions from her. Rocks were sent flying, dirt scattered, even the lava pulsed in a slow ripple.

And then her eyes stopped on the fleeing skid in the mud a few feet away from her… a body-sized one, with no visible object to have made such a divot.

”...there you are.”

The three words were spoken in a dull, monotone growl. Wounded and bleeding, listing to the side, the ashen-haired woman gnashed and bared her teeth, throwing her hands forward and unleashing a torrent of eldritch, destructive energy in an indiscriminate assault in the direction of where she now saw the outline of her enemy scrambling to her feet, betrayed by the falling rain.

Lightning bolts focused on the area, hammering down relentlessly, one of them finding its mark. A scream of agony as another divot appeared in the ground, which drew more bolts of energy from the wounded woman. She mercilessly pummeled her again… and again… and again…

Her sense of time became fuzzy at that point. She didn’t know just for how long or how many times she struck her. It could have been seconds for all she knew, but it felt like hours. By the time she came to her senses again, the white haired woman lay visible, on her back, and broken, bloody, and scorched beyond all recognition.

She stood over her, favoring her ribs from which her life’s blood continued to pour out of her… at the volcano’s edge.

"Not anymore."

An unnatural storm raged near the treeline of the dense forest, following the woman as she pursued a fleeing dark figure towards it, flinging bolts of horrible violet rage. Her legs pumped, driving her in a limping, hobbled run, relentlessly onward towards her target, hair trailing behind her, whipping in the wind like antagonized vipers. But the shadowy form continued to flee, dodging her hellish assault and the searing crack of lightning, outpacing her. Craters were blown into the earth, wood splintered and shattered under her relentless and single-minded pursuit, heedless of the swath of destruction she was carving.

The fleeing figure disappeared into the trees. She knew she had no chance of catching up even in open terrain, let alone through the obstacle course that was the dense wood.

But… she would not be dissuaded so easily. Without so much as a second thought, she turned her furious attack on the forest itself.

She would leave it no refuge. No safe haven.







“Not this. They weren’t worth this price, this life… this soul.”

A cave. A portal swirling with shadowy, chaotic energy stands open near one of the cavern walls, a rift to another dark plane. To the Abyss itself. A small group stands in a semicircle before it, flanking a horned creature wreathed in shadow and flame.

”I need that sword.”

”I do not have much power. Allow me to feed, my mistress, so that I may serve you better.”

”Sounds like you’re stalling.”

The ashen haired woman in the center of the group surveyed the others, contemplatively, then turned her eyes on the creature. She spoke with flat indifference.

”What is your name.”

The creature knelt before her, bowing its head, one of its massive clawed hands on its flame-wreathed whip, the other driving its sword point into the ground. The writhing tendrils of shadow licked at the air around it.

”Garganix.”

"Garganix. I command you to go to the Greypeak Mountains. There is a horde of fire giants plaguing the area."

”Carah…”

”Kill them.”

”That’s a terrible idea.”

”Aye, lass, he’s toyin’ with ye.”

”Don’t do it, Carah. I’m begging you.”

”Do you have a better idea!?”

”You’re setting another demon loose on this plane!

”Aye. If he was here to serve yeh, there wouldn’t be conditions.”

”If you do this, and I help, I risk losing my druidic powers. Please, Carah… don’t.”

The woman looked back at the shadow demon, unmoved. She spoke with authority, her voice level and devoid of passion.

”You have your command. Go. Consume all you wish, gain your power. And you will bring me Lythira’s sword within the tenday.”

”As you command, my mistress.”

The group, save for the ashen haired woman in the middle, looked on in dismay as the demon stepped back through the portal.

”...it’s… it’s too much. It’s mine.”







Cold mountain air swirled bitter snow around the cacophony of a waning battle. Bones and desiccated flesh were strewn about the snow, living blood spattered and sprayed intermingled with coagulated black ichor. Magic sparked and flew, rending the air with terrible shrieks of power, emanating from a tall, lanky elf who, were it not for the terrifying way he was bending reality to his whim, may look anything but intimidating. Another pair, a huge man and a smaller woman, locked swords with three more animated skeletons ripped from the soil, fallen soldiers of a bygone age torn from their rest to drag the group back to oblivion with them. One of them fell as the woman severed its head with a furious swipe of her blade. Further blasts of warped, eldritch energy slammed from another source into a shambling, armored corpse, shattering it into hundreds of stinking pieces.

The last of them finally fell to the ailing group, and several of them fell to one knee, clutching bleeding wounds and panting.

The ashen-haired woman, incensed, whirled to face the lanky elf, eyes wide with fury.

"WHAT THE HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"

”Me!?”

"YES!" You want to lecture me about putting people in danger!? I could have told the thing to kill itself!”

”Excuse me? I'm not the one who took on an undead TOUR GUIDE! You're not telling any of them to do a gods-damned thing!”

The gangly elf raised up, driving a long, bony finger at the woman.

”You accept that that thing is serving you... We're going to have problems, Carah.”

The woman didn’t back down, only raised her voice, her hands flying overhead as she glared right back.

”We already have problems, Oth! When I let you come along on this little escapade I told you to do exactly as I say! Do you have ANY idea what you’ve done!?”

The large, heavily bleeding druid on his knees lifting his head and roared.

”SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU.”

A man in a feathered wide brimmed hat closed his mouth, clenched his fists, and moved to flank the woman with the ash-colored hair, turning his concerned attention to her while clutching the right side of his chest. The woman, in turn, simply glowered and bristled, staring with dimly pulsing eyes at the elf with a look that could melt lead.

And the elf stared right back in furious silence for a beat. The druid set about tending to wounds while the two remained unmoving across from one another. Finally, the elf spoke in a low, irritated voice.

”I'm not getting cozy with the idea of working with abominations that serve demons. That’s too gods-damned much and you know it.”

”...You can afford the luxury of being so f***king picky, though, can’t you?”

The supreme disgust in the woman’s retort was thick as sludge. The elf glared back at her in silence.

”Carah… it’s done. Let’s get back to town an’ see to the wounded, aye? We got what we came for, we’re nae beaten.”

The man with the hat rested a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. She tensed at first, holding her icy glare on the elf for a few seconds more before her face twisted in derisive scorn, snorting. She turned, and obliged his request, starting down the mountain road with or without the wounded.

”I refuse to stay damned for them.”







Sunset, a clearing. The woman waited, impassively watching the skies, rubbing absently at her left leg, keeping her weight off of it. A massive shape blotted out the sun, drawing her eyes as it swooped down to land before her, the winged shadow demon thundering to the ground, dwarfing her, easily ten times the size it had been before. She looked up at it, unafraid, as it notably did not kneel before her.

”I have done as you commanded, my mistress.”

”Where is it.”

”I do not possess it. But I will tell you where to find it.”

The woman’s eyes flashed angrily.

”I told you to bring it to me within the tenday.”

”I cannot yet breach its prison.”

”You’re trying my patience, Garganix.”

The demon grinned malevolently down at its supposed master.

”There is more to be done before it can be reached. More death, more power, more feeding.”

”Then speak. I don’t have time for games. I don’t care what must be done. I. Want. That. Sword.”

A sinister, rumbling laugh rolled over the hills.

”My mistress is a brave one. Surely she must know that no man has ever challenged our patron and lived.”

”I am no man, Garganix.”

”I won’t be a slave any longer.”



The man in the hat lay in the fetal position, quivering and clutching his head. A dead mindflayer lay nearby, its head split like a melon, spilling its disgusting contents in a sickeningly expanding puddle onto the ancient stone floor. A yawning portal stood open, through which a shadowy figure slipped.

The ashen-haired woman knelt by his side, cradling the trembling man in her arms, but her eyes were fixed determinedly on the portal, her body tense, her teeth gritted. She hesitated momentarily, then stood up, poised to pursue.

”Lass… please…”

The man whimpered, rolling onto his side, still holding his head as he fought to stave off whatever horrendous memories the illithid had tapped into. His blue eyes opened to fix on her, desperately. Pleading.

”I’m sorry, Emrys, but I can’t let him get away. I can’t.”

”Donnae make me continue.”

The woman hesitated again, staring after the portal, still tensed, torn. The man groggily rolled onto one knee, rubbing his head one more time, wrenching his eyes closed with a violent shudder.

She didn’t move or turn around, keeping her eyes on the portal as it began to waver and weaken.



”This cycle ends now.”

A northern road at night. The ashen-haired woman and the hat-bearing man move up the road in the darkness to meet a pair of men standing in their path, one sporting a hood and a metal mask, the other in full plate armor and helmet, a greatsword affixed to his back..

”Ah miss Evenwood.”

”Funny, I was going to come looking for you. One of my men are looking to arrange a meeting.”

"If it's with me, then it looks like I've just saved you the trouble."

The masked man let out a sharp whistle, looking back and motioning to someone hidden just off the road. Another black-cloaked man emerged, lowering a hood and revealing a bearded, stern, but not unkindly face. He smiled to the pair, and spoke.

"It does and it's much appreciated. We can use all the help we can get."

”Seems like a right reprieve. Convenience has nae been all that abundant lately.”

”What brings House Darius to Soubar?”

”I’m not here as a Darius representative–”

The woman arched an eyebrow at the newcomer, narrowing her eyes.

”–Sabyn?”

The tall bearded man gave a little bow.

"The one and only."

”Gods it’s… been a while.”

"Too long."



Some time later, the group sits in an imposing conference room around a fine oak table, a fire in the hearth, goblets of foaming lager sitting in front of several as they converse.

”...You plan on bindin' a demon prince an' then demand his book to be freed of such bindin's?”

"Well, if nothing else it sounds like we have somewhat of a plan... and I use that word liberally because it's half-cocked. Half-Cocked, but the only option we have, it seems."

"It's better than anything I've gotten so far."

"We'll make it work."

”One person, one single person calls unto him for a deal. When the book is in view. we bring in every… bloody… one... and we can nab the book and send him back.”

”This... I mean it sorta works in theory. But hells, do you grasp how strong of magicks you'd need to hold a demon prince?”

”No, but I'm guessing.... really bloody strong. And if we have the dagger and the sword…”

"I don't necessarily like the idea of forcefully trying to take the book."

The man across the table rubbed at his beard thoughtfully, then shook his head.

"What about a trade?"

"I'm working on that angle, too. Though I'm not above trading him something he wants for the book and destroying it anyway. If anything, I’d prefer to do that.”

"Let's see if he'll take me instead. I've been meaning to have a chat with one of those bastards anyhow."

A dumbfounded silence fell over the table as all eyes settled on the bearded man.

”...ye daft, lad?”

”It’s not out of the question.”

”It’s more plausible than trying to actually bind the bastard.”

”The fact of the matter is that taking it by force isn’t going to work. These things destroy cities on a whim. He’ll want something profitable.”

”No no, go back. What do you mean by take you instead?”

The bearded man looked right back at her and spoke plainly.

"Just what I said. See if he'll exchange you for me. I'm willing, you aren't, and like I said... I've been wanting to have a 'sit-down' with one of those bastards for a while."

The woman didn’t look incredulous so much as dumbfounded.

”And yes, before you ask, I know damn well what I’m suggesting.”

The woman held up her hands, lofting her eyebrows as she looked away in indifferent surrender.

”...As long as you do.”

”I don’t care anymore what I have to do.”

”You couldn’t change either.”

”I tried so hard for you.”

”I’m not trying to guilt you.”

”What do you want from me?”

”For you to embrace what you are.”

A duskwood bow was tossed onto the ground, sinister in it simplicity, radiating with powerful magic.

”There’s work to be done.”

”If it gets it back…”



The storm raged on in its fury, punishing thunder reverberating through the rock faces of the mountain pass. Sheets of rain drove like needles through the scene, stinging skin. Flashes of lightning strobed the area, highlighting the vengeful fight ongoing.

”RHAEG! That’s enough, lad! Put her down! She is nae the enemy! Ye love her, too!”

The massive, imposing half orc held the ashen-haired woman aloft by one meaty hand clasped savagely about her throat, crushing it. The woman’s legs kicked as she choked, her face draining of color as the man in the hat shouted to be heard over the din, fighting to pry the death grip of tree-trunk sized arms away from the woman’s throat.

Tusks grit hard, rheumy eyes glaring up at the figure he bodily held over his head, at first seeming not to hear the pleas, finally the imposing barbarian relented, releasing his grip. The woman fell to the ground in a heap, wheezing a rasping, desperate gasp as she clutched at her damaged windpipe. The half orc remained where he was, glaring down at the broken woman in checked rage.

The Ffolkman rushed to her side, taking her in his arms, supporting her.

”I’ve got ye, lass… breathe…”

Wheezing and still clutching her throat with her left hand, the woman’s eyes rolled in her head a few times as she blinked to clear her vision, still crumpled on the ground. She lingered there for a few seconds, the stinging rain and thunder pummeling them…

…and then a flash of rage crossed her expression. A dull glow pulsed beneath her hazel eyes as she turned them on the half orc towering over her.

”...you should have killed me.”



With a scream, she threw her hands forward, unleashing an unstoppable bolt of abyssal energy. It tore into the half-orc’s chest, propelling him in all of his mass backwards, his feet leaving the ground as if he were just hit square with a giant’s club. The sickening scent of curdling and burning flesh was too thick for the howling winds to carry away even as the storm intensified under the woman’s furious onslaught, spurred on by her magic and anger.

”Carah! STOP!”

She hit him again while he was still staggered. Another searing bolt of sickly purple energy slammed into him, driving him back into a nearby rock face with a gut-churning crunch. The half orc grunted in agony, fighting against the force, mustering the singleminded, rage-fueled will that only his kind were known for, tusks bared in a defiant roar as he fought against the ribbons of energy tearing into him, melting his flesh away, boiling his blood, burning his thinning gray hair.

The storm intensified still as the woman rose to her feet, throwing off the Ffolkman with a toss of her arm, and unrelentingly continued her attack. Sheets of rock and soil loosened under her otherworldly onslaught, sliding down from the hill and knocking the slowly advancing half orc prone.

Burying him alive.

And still she did not let up.

”CARAH!”

”...the Gate can burn.”





...drip… drip… drip… drip…

[kersplunk]

People of a common dockside upbringing rarely had reason to learn the written word; that was a privilege often reserved for the wealthy elite. The meanness of a meager life necessitated other priorities and left little room for such luxuries, particularly when such a life was rooted in a society so rent by a severe class divide as Tethyr-that-was had been.

Lying buried in a forgotten corner of a desk drawer in a place reserved for things too important to burn, and too painful to remember was a tattered parchment, torn at the edges and weathered from time and the elements. It hadn’t seen light from anything other than a dim candle in over a year, hemmed in on all sides by various other forgotten items that had been shoved to the back of its resting place. The ink had blotched and run in places, but the script within was still legible. It was bound by a simple fabric cord, the wax seal long since broken and crumbled to almost nothing. Marked on the exterior in a steady hand was only her given name.

There was great power in words, particularly in written ones, it seemed. An army could topple a nation, destroy a dam, ravage a fortification… but words could bring down the most heavily defended places with far greater efficacy when crafted with the proper precision, or aimed at the right place. And when so recorded, it left one to wonder whether something of such power would not have haunted memories of their own.





The young woman sat at a worn wooden desk, alone, deep within the bowels of the library to which she had gained access. The candelabras arranged around her flickered with tired, pale ochre light, pooling wax gathering in haphazard frozen puddles and gnarled fingerlets about their stands as their supply of fuel dwindled. Moths flitted about the flames, disoriented and dazzled by their light occasionally coming to rest on one of the surface of the desk.

One alighted on the corner, and a swift, loud SMACK resounded as one of her hands descended on the insect, crushing and killing it instantly.

Her face pale and gaunt from exhaustion, she rubbed absently at her sunken hazel eyes, slumped forward on her elbows atop the surface. Countless tomes, scrolls, and ledgers lay scattered in disarray around her, some of the worn pages earmarked carelessly, others having their covers shoved into another’s pages, giving the impression that they were eating one another in the anarchy of a fruitless search. Their topics ranged from mundane dissertations on alchemical reactions to musings on extraplanar travel to wildly esoteric and forbidden writings on the occult and frighteningly dark.

The written word was never her strong suit. She hadn’t learned until her adult years, and even today, they strained her eyes and made her head hurt even when she was at her best. And had there been anyone near enough to pass by, they would know at the briefest glance that she certainly wasn’t. She felt that she was wasting her time doing this - if there was anything useful to be found in all of the long winded prattling before her, it would take her ages to find at this pace. Time she simply did not have.

Worse still, there were few people she could trust to assist her in this. They wouldn’t understand. The judging eyes, the pitchforks, the cries for her blood… they were everywhere.

She slumped back in her chair, exhaling long and hard as she tiredly surveyed the mess before her. Despite knowing that at the moment, this was indeed the best use of her time, she couldn’t stave off the insistent, niggling feeling that she should be doing something, anything other than frittering away whatever precious time she had left down here in the bowels of this dungeon, for lack of a better term.

In her mind’s eye she saw herself leap to her feet, upending the desk in a blind rage, bellowing an earth-shattering scream that sent the books flying, the candles toppling over. She saw her voice split into a cacophony of beautifully terrible overtones, rending the air in sudden sparks, setting the entire library around her ablaze in all-consuming fire.

And in less than the span of a blink, the impulse passed. Once more she saw things as they were. Silent and solitary, with only the dust, the aging parchment, the candles, and the moths for company.

Her attention drew to a rolled up parchment by her right hand, sealed with black wax and the crest of House Blackrose. She stared at it for a long time.

”This is for you.”

”What is it?”

”You’ll know if the time comes.”

”How will I?”

”If I don’t return. Do not open it before then.”

She scowled, continuing to stare at it for some time, tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk, letting it torment her. She had paid as little attention to it as possible so far, despite her curiosity constantly fighting to get the better of her. What if it contained something she needed? Was he withholding something from her? It would be just like a Blackrose to do something like that.

She looked away from the letter, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists as she slowly let a long, tight breath out through her nose as she glared daggers at the myriad texts splayed out in front of her. She certainly wasn’t making any meaningful progress with any of this.

“Sleep.”

She flinched, wrenching her eyes closed tightly as her head jerked to the side. She didn’t have time to sleep. It was merely another luxury she could ill afford, despite every fiber of her body shrieking in desperate protest for respite from a mind that refused to relent. Shifting to the edge of her seat, she reached for one of the earmarked tomes and began to read again.

Or… she tried. It wasn’t until she went to turn a page that she realized that although her eyes had been following the letters, her mind simply had not retained a single thing. She couldn’t even remember the sentence she had just read. Slamming the book closed irritably, scattering the moths, she hung her head, taking several shaking breaths as she trembled in checked frustration.

Her eyes were drawn to the letter again, reading the name written next to the seal.

Carah.

Several moments passed as she silently held herself in a staring match with the inanimate letter mocking her. This was pointless. She stood up, knocking the chair over, and snatched the letter up as she spun on her heels to leave the darkened library, abandoning the scattered texts to the moths and the librarians.





The letter clenched in her hand tightly, she had long since abandoned the road, walking through the flower fields near a lake. Storm clouds brewed on the horizon in the gray afternoon, ominously hanging over the treeline in the distance in stark contrast to the bright hues of the flowers swaying in the breeze to some melody to which she was deaf, blissfully ignorant of the storm in the woman’s mind. Some of them bent and crunched under her boots as she strode through them, unconcerned with the beauty she was crushing underfoot.

Her purposeful gait gradually became more and more listless as her tired mind became more and more aware of the fact that she was directionless, marching like a doomed woman to an inevitable end of an nonexistent road. The letter in her hand grew heavy as she lifted her eyes to the lake ahead. She stopped for a moment to let the wind blow her ashen hair about, letting it whip in time to the unheard song of the flowers. She closed her eyes, trying to still herself, to hear… but there was only silence.

She looked down to the letter in her hand again, staring blankly at the black seal. She knew she shouldn’t. Part of her dreaded what was in those words. The parchment felt cold in her hands, heavy, foreboding. And before she could stop herself, she had fallen to her backside on the grass to sit on the lake’s bank, and her thumb had broken the seal without being consciously told to.

She sighed, clenching the still-rolled parchment tightly, pressing it to her forehead. She shouldn’t do this. But the seal could not be unbroken.

Unrolling the parchment, she began to read.

And with each word, her heart sank further as the heavy weight of realization pressed more and more down on her.

Carah, if you’re reading this, then I never returned from my arrangement.

There are a few things I wanted to say that I didn’t have the opportunity to, or… well, I just didn’t say. I don’t know if you remember meeting with Lady Blackrose where we first met, or the clandestine meetings thereafter, but I certainly do. I remember you being uncomfortable during those meetings, and my meager attempts at helping you find some comfort in an otherwise awkward and, from your point of view, nerve-wracking situation. Of all the people I have met in this bleak place, you always drew my attention, and considering my profession, that’s saying something.

Even surrounded by chaos and turmoil, you still managed to see the best in people, and along with it, brought out the best in them, too. You were always pleasant, always gave more than you received, and were always willing to put yourself on the line where it mattered. People like you are few and far between.

This may seem like it’s coming from nowhere. This entire thing may be a sentiment that I, and I alone, experienced, but part of me believes that it is not. Part of me believes that circumstance is a considerable part of why this is being conferred to you in a letter, rather than at a table. Circumstances which, for whatever reason, always forced me to keep myself at arm’s length from you. I would be lying if I said there weren’t times where I felt it was a shared experience. I would be lying if I said there weren’t times when I thought I should have said more. However, I fully realize that my troubled mind could simply be playing tricks on me, simply showing me what I, at least on some level, wanted to see. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention it to you in the event that something happened to me. If it were the case, and it wasn’t a one-sided affair, I wouldn’t want you wondering like I did.

So here is my final gesture. One that I make to ensure that no questions are left for you; whether there are any or not, only you can say. Some part of me hopes that I am wrong, so that the result of this disaster does not affect you in the way it would me if we hadn’t figured out the means to remove your name from that book. Know that I go into this without hesitation, and the reason I suggested it is because if there is one soul in this world worth saving… it is you.

This is not some declaration of unprofessed love or an attempt to change what has happened, we both know that if you’re reading this, there is no changing anything. What it is, however, is my attempt to tell you that I appreciate the times, regardless of how few they were, that we were able to sit and speak with one another. It is my attempt to tell you that without ever really knowing why, I was drawn to you. It is my attempt to say what I have been trying to say for a very long time now.

I asked to speak to you prior to this gods-awful mess for a few reasons. One, because I just wanted to talk to you before I was unable to, and two, because I wanted to gauge how you were handling it all. Aside from giving you this letter, that is.

Regardless, know that however this turns out, it was worth it, and that my sole wish for you, Carah, is that your darkest days are behind you.

Your silent admirer,
Sabyn

I spoke to God today
And she said that she’s ashamed
What have I become? What have I done?
I spoke to the devil today
And he swears he’s not to blame
And I understood, ‘cause I feel the same

Arms wide open, I stand alone
I’m no hero, and I’m not made of stone
Right or wrong? I can hardly tell
I’m on the wrong side of heaven
And the righteous side of hell

I heard from God today
And she sounded just like me
What have I done? And who have I become?
I saw the devil today
And he looked a lot like me
I looked away, I turned away

Arms wide open, I stand alone
I’m no hero, and I’m not made of stone
Right or wrong? I can hardly tell
I’m on the wrong side of heaven
And the righteous side of hell

I’m not defending
Downward descending
Falling further and further away
Getting closer every day

Arms wide open, I stand alone
I’m no hero, and I’m not made of stone
Right or wrong? I can hardly tell
I’m on the wrong side of heaven
And the righteous side of hell

I’m on the wrong side of heaven
And the righteous side of hell

[kersplunk]

((OOC Trigger Warning))

Rain fell from the cloud-riven starscape overhead. The little hamlet of Gullykin slept peacefully, save for its diminutive sentries posted along its walls, overlooking the edge of the precipitous drop along which the village sat. The rocks and road at the bottom were lost in darkness, save for the occasional glimmer of pooling water far below, cascading steadily off of the cliff face as if the very stones, convinced that they were secluded and unobserved, were weeping.

The road below had seen and drunk its fair share of blood over the years. And though the rain that came and went would periodically wash its surface clean, the taint and the memory would remain.

”He doesn’t mean it, you know.”

”You’re a good actor, but we both know the truth.”

”You killed me to come into this world. Suffering has followed you everywhere ever since.”

It was a long way down.

It would be quick, if she landed right.

Bits of scree and gravel crumbled from the edge of the drop beneath her feet as she looked over the edge, watching them plummet into the emptiness into the dark void below. She couldn’t hear them hit bottom.

Sabyn’s letter was clenched in her right hand, the rolled parchment feeling like it had the weight of a thousand bricks.

”Hahahahaha…”

”You really thought you’d be different forever?”

”I am so disappointed in you. You are no daughter of mine.”

”HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

She stared mutely into the abyss, her expression a resigned, unreadable mask, save for the rivulets carving channels of moisture in the dirt caked on her cheeks, their erratic paths curving and twisting down from her listless hazel eyes.

She had tried.

She had even fooled a lot of people. But, had anything… truly improved?

The letter burned in her hand.

”That pretty face of yours can’t hide who you really are.”

”It’s a mask.”

”It’s another lie.”

”ADMIT IT.”

She closed her eyes.

A slow, defeated sigh swelled and deflated her chest, her chin lowering to it, her silent tears falling into the chasm, softly enticing her to follow them.

What an idiot she had been, thinking she could be better. She could pretend for a while, and even bring others along for the ride. But she would slip. She would make mistakes. And in the end, it would be as it always was.

She wasn’t the person he saw. She never would be.

She would always fall short, always turn back into that horrible person she knew she was, chaos and destruction on her heels everywhere she went. She could outrun it for a time… but it would always catch up to her eventually.

Without conscious thought, the hand bearing the letter turned its palm upwards, her fingers opening. Her eyes were drawn to it, vacantly, tears still pooling in them.

”The fool only sees what he wants to.”

”No one will mourn you.”

”Do everyone a favor.”



The plummet before her called subtly to her. Gently beckoning her, promising a swift end to her misery.

The mobs in Baldur’s Gate screaming for her head had it right after all. And no matter how hard she tried to ignore the truth, no matter how many people she fooled… she could never completely fool herself. No matter where she ran, no matter how hard she tried, she would always be that awful little girl in Velen who had her father wrapped around her finger, the terrible little brat that would throw her brothers under the proverbial wagon to be punished for her misbehavior. She would never get away from the vengeful, spiteful shell of a person that had survived the fires of Tethyr’s fall, who had lashed out at the world that had stolen the childhood that she had never appreciated from her.

And now here she was, right back at her old tricks. The Gate had wronged her. She had saved them… and they cast her out. People she thought had loved her now shunned her, labeling her the villain, the cause of their strife. In her anger, she had become the monster they called her. In her sorrow, she had descended to the point of doing unspeakable things, no matter how many innocents would be jeopardized, to get back what had been taken from her. And she had been willing to do even worse.

They were right. This… everything… it was her fault. It had all happened because of her.

Absently she stared at the letter in her palm, watching it silently mock her. Sabyn remembered her for the person she had wanted to become. The person she wanted so desperately to replace the old her. To be better, to live up to the ideals that her family had fought so hard and sacrificed so much to instill in her. The ideals that, each time she let her guard down, she betrayed at every turn.

The realization of what he meant to do had struck her in the heart with a force greater than a thousand flaming arrows. Once more, she had not flinched at the idea of letting someone else take the fall for her folly. All because she had fooled him with the mask she wore… the skin she wore to hide who she truly was.

And no number of good deeds she desperately tried to perform would ever wash away the blood on her hands… or ever refuse to come back to haunt her.

”Lass…”

”You destroy everything you touch.”

”Ye dinnae have to do this alone.”

She clenched the letter in her fist again, turning her gaze back to where the earth dropped away inches from her toes. Tears continued to fall, cascading, dissolving into the empty air, vanishing into nothing.

”Don’t do it. Don’t let him take your fall for you.”

”They don’t love you anyway.”

She couldn’t take it, not again. She couldn’t live with what he was offering. Her actions had damned her, and he couldn’t be allowed to damn himself in her place.

The person he wanted to save… she was gone. She wondered if she had even ever really existed.

And from where she now stood, there was but one way out of all of this.

She took a shuffling step closer to the ledge, staring down to the rocks in shadow below. Her breath hitched in her chest, her eyelids drifted closed. The tears kept flowing.

She had been running for ten years… and she was tired.

”Carah, please….”

Only one more step… and she wouldn’t have to run anymore.

”I love ye, Carah Evenwood.”

It was a long way down.

It would be quick, if she landed right.





Lately I’ve been feeling so ashamed
By these thoughts I’m hiding in my brain
Cause I’ve been holding them down, but they twist me violently
I’m hanging by a thread tonight, but this time I don’t wanna be saved

So let me fall, let me break
Under everything unsaid
Just let me die, cause I can’t take
Living with what’s in my head

If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me?
If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me?
Will it set me free?

What’s the point of holding on like this?
When no one seems to care if I exist?
There is no agony like being strong when no one knows you’re sick
So sick of hearing I should stay when I know I would never be missed

So let me fall, let me break
Under everything unsaid
Just let me die, cause I can’t take
Living with what’s in my head

If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me?
If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me?

If you could see under my skin
You’d realize why I hold it in
Why it’s a fight I don’t wanna win
If you could see all my abuse
And spend a day inside my shoes
You’d realize why I just wanna lose
Will anyone believe the hell of being me
Before I decide to be the dying proof…?

If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me?
If I surrender, surrender, to the monsters in me?
Will it set me free?

[kersplunk]

They say time is like a river. Some do, anyhow.

Of course, the sentiment behind such a comparison was surely rooted in the implication that time was relentless, always pushing forward in one direction, waiting for no one. It wore down all that tried to stop it, or found a way around or through it and continued its unfeeling, callous journey to the sea.

But rivers are inconsistent things, too. They change their course and leave beds barren. In some places they rapidly crash, roil, and charge at a frenetic pace, in others they are still, calm, serene. Harsh winters freeze them solid, even at falls. If time was like a river, one could reasonably believe that certain moments could similarly rush or slow, or freeze entirely.

Carah stood at the ledge, peering through the darkness to the rocks below, teetering on the brink of her decision, memories rushing back to glitter in her mind’s eye like the icicles of a river’s waterfall, frozen in time.

A cave at the bottom of an underground river. Water cascaded over jagged rocks in splashing plumes before pooling below in a pool.

A taciturn Gurri sat favoring a turned ankle, waist deep in the water, flanked by a concerned looking young woman on one knee, heedless of the chilly water.

"Ngh. Can you stand? Or do you need a minute?"

”I can stand… but I also need a minute.”

A roughened hand made to reach out to her, pulling her into the water to sit next to him. Caught completely off guard and unprepared, the woman squeaked in surprise as she went onto her side, half submerged. Flailing a few times and sputtering, she righted herself, wiping water from her face and glaring daggers at the man who’d pranked her.

He didn’t shy away from the look, holding calm golden eyes on her, searching her.

”...talk to me, eh? Please.”

The look subsided steadily as she gazed at him. She sighed somewhat grumpily, but it was unconvincing. Pulling herself to a sitting position, resigned to the fact that she was soaked entirely to the bone, she dragged her hand down her face, staring straight ahead.

"...about what, Arturi...?"

He didn’t even turn to look at her as he rolled his ankle in his hands, his lips tightening for a moment.

”...I'll start then, eh?”

She looked anxiously at his ankle, frowning at his reaction, and huffed, reaching for it again. She hesitated, however, eyeing him as if suspecting another surprise attack.

”It was a discussion you and I had the other day. About whether or not to tell Oth about what happened at the Shrine.”

"Give me your foot. Let me see.”

The man obliged, shifting over with a wince, but pointedly turned his eyes to her.

”Remember?”

"I remember. Take off your boot. If it swells it's going to make it worse."

He reached down, leaning toward her as he pulled. A throaty growl with closed eyes. At first it doesn't come off the whole way, though with another heave he finally tugged the rest of it off with a sharp exhale of breath.

”What was your biggest fear in doing such?”

"I... I didn't want to upset him."

He took a few breaths, his words in a taut rush from the pain of taking the boot off. The woman pulled the injured foot into her lap, flowing water breaking around them as she inspected it. He held his eyes on her, a gaze she didn’t return, focused instead on fumbling about in her belt for bandages.

”...and what happens when Oth gets upset about undead?”

"...Any one of a number of things? He gets anxious. Or he gets angry. Or he goes borderline catatonic."

Breath.

”At the Song of Morning, after I was bit… I heard Nathan dig into Oth, eh? Not being mean… like family. Saying that Oth tends to get worked up, eh?”

Another breath.

”That he doesn't see straight.”

She cursed quietly as she pulled out a rolled bandage, soaked straight through, but after a second of looking at it, and with nothing else on hand at the moment, she unrolled it and began to wrap the wrenched ankle snugly, looking up at him. A faint grimace at the mention of him being bitten, but she didn’t belabor that point. She nodded.

”I can dry it once we're out.”

He sniffed once sharply with one eye open, glancing at the bandage, one eye closed, then looked at her again.

”...Carah… I've had the same concerns about you ever since I learned of your mood on the beach.”

She didn’t look up from wrapping his ankle.

"I'm fine, Arturi, just… tired."

”I know.”

Beat.

”I just… don't want this anger, eh? This rage to blind you, eh? Especially with creatures who thrive in darkness… I don't want to see you get…”

He didn’t finish his thought.

She didn’t respond at first, but her bandaging gradually slowed to a glacial, clumsy pace as she neared the end of the wrap. After a beat of silence, she just... stopped, and hung her head.

"...I... I don't want it, Arturi."

"I don't want to be angry."

"I don't want to hurt. I don't want to ... To feel like this."

She looked up at him with a deep-seated, desperate look far behind her eyes.

"But it's... I can't. I c-can't keep doing t-this..."

"I know I can't. But I don't know h-how to stop it."

”I'm not scolding you, eh? And you're not wrong to feel this way. I’m not telling you to divert from your course. But the slightest distraction from emotion…”

“You may not hear the step behind you, eh? Or see something shift in the shadow... I just…”

He sighed.

”I don't want you to do something rash. As Nathan said to Oth, when you're like that, you're putting yourself in danger and at risk of not being able to see clearly in helping others."

He glanced up at her.

She shuddered again with a click in her throat. Watering hazel eyes darted rapidly back and forth between each of his golden ones, her brow knitted, lower lip knotted and quivering as she listened.

He gingerly slid his foot off her lap. He leaned into her side and said, solemnly, one word.

”Try.”

She never took her eyes off of him. Another long pause as he reoriented himself, and she shuddered again, looking down with a jerky series of small, uneven nods.

"...I… I am."

"I have been."

"Gods-s help me, Arturi, I have… I... I just don't know how much I have left."

He closed his eyes as her voice began to break, pressing his lips thin.

”Then I don't know what else to say, eh? Besides… I'm sorry.”

“Sorry that you must know this pain.”

She shook her head, looking off to her right, and rather pointlessly wiped at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips.

"It isn't your f-fault..."

”I don't feel guilt. I feel for you, eh?”

A slow exhale, and he looked away.

”Pick whatever word you want for it… just....do what you need to, eh?”

“But please don't let it consume you.”

For several moments, the only sound was the rushing water crashing into the rocks behind them echoing off the cavern walls. Carah’s head hung forlornly, eyes closed, unresponsive for a time.

Finally, she spoke.

"I won't."

"I'd welcome any advice as to how to do that, though."

"Because the blows just... keep coming, Arturi."

"And I'm-m afraid that I'm getting to the p-point that I'm starting see them where they aren't."

”I know you, Carah. And it's because you keep standing in the way. But I can't tell you to step aside… because…”

“...I wouldn't either.”

She noded a little, and looked back at him, solemn.

“Just....since I've met Sarisay, eh? You, Emmanuel, Ashling, Oth to an extent, even…”

“I've realized my life isn't my own anymore…”

”What I mean is… you've folks who care about you, too.”

His voice returned to something of a normal tone, but beneath it, a note of sly deviousness seldom heard by a few, never heard by most, crept in.

”But you know that, don’t you?”

She looked up at him again, and some of that familiar light seemed to leech back into her gaze. After another pause, she gave him a tiny nod, her voice almost a whisper..

”...I do....”

She swallowed, looking at her lap, and wiped away more droplets of water clinging to her face with her palm. Another nod.

"I do."

"And so many of you have reminded me. Often."

"I just..."

"I haven't been listening."

"I need to step back. And just.... stop... I don't know. Stop killing myself."

”Part of me wanted to suggest it. Part of me also knows that I can't tell you to do anything.”

She slowly looked back to him.

"...you can tell me to do anything you want."

Pause. And then she allowed a faint half of a smirk through her malaise.

"..doesn't mean I'll do it, though… but you knew that.”

The Gur sniffed once sharply, without expression… or most of one.

”I did.”

She looked at him with that queer look of muted awe again in silence for a few seconds.

"I really should, though. You haven't steered me wrong yet, I mean."

"And I'm sorry for being such a s**t listener."

He canted his head, looking at her sideways. The corners of his mouth twitched up, holding there.

”Well...If I ever steer you wrong… it's because I'm trying to set up a joke to make you laugh in moments just like this, eh?”

Her faint grin grew ever so slightly.

"...I... was kinda preparing for it, actually."

He gestured to his bandaged ankle.

I've got nothing, eh? Besides… if it's a bad enough joke...I can't run from you swatting me for it… So I'll behave, no?”

She shook her head softly, gazing up at him.

"Don't."

"Never stop doing that to me."

He looked at her curiously.

”Stop what?”

"Making me smile. Making me laugh when I want to do anything but."

"It's... That's something that amazes me about you, Arturi. I don't know how you do it."

He shook once with a silent chuckle that relented in a smile. At her compliments, he rubbed the back of his neck and his eyes found the water.

”It's just...the right thing to do, eh?”

He looked to her again, the subtle smile remaining on his normally reserved, stoic features.

”Deal.”

She shrugged a little, the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth small and soft, but the warmth behind it was palpable even in the chill of the mist around them.

"Maybe. And it's not as if you're the only one who tries?"

"But you're the only one I can think of who does it so consistently."

"No... not consistently..."

”Every. Time.”

He gave a slight shrug, still eyeing her with that devious, shifty look so few ever ever glimpsed.

”We're friends. I don't have many but… that's what they're supposed to do, I figure, eh?”

Her smile shifted sideways, and there was a murmur of a giggle as she eyed him.

"You don't fool me by playing ignorant like that. It can't come so naturally for you otherwise."

A pause, and her snickering intensified a little as she gestured at her sternum, brows rising.

”See? You’re doing it right now.”

He chuckled, bringig his hand up from under the water, seemingly capturing some in his palm as it broke the surface for seemingly no point at all other than to gather his words.

”Thank you for being my friend, eh?”

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Arturi."

”...and going swimming with me.”

She laughed, moving to fling a palmful of water up at his face… but he beat her to it.

"It's still not about whether or not I associate with them, Emmanuel. It's about the fact that a man offered to damn his own soul for my sake."

She paused, and looked back at him slowly. Plainly.

"The very thing I did, and now regret. And… and I…"

She palmed her face, shaking her head in muted disgust.

”And you were going to let him.”

She nodded from a thousand miles away, face still hidden in her hand.

He nodded once.

”I ... don't know if I could have ... not let him, were it me, Carah.”

”...it’s still hard not to, honestly.”

”See... earlier, you thanked us for staying with you, Carah… I think you got things all wrong.”

She looked at him, frowning in puzzlement.

”I don't ... stick with you because I feel you need me.”

He drew out the pause, looking intently back down into her eyes.

”You're my f***ing hero.”

As plainly as if he’d kicked her right then and there, she startled, blinking rapidly, and stared at the druid in open, slack jawed befuddlement, speechless.

His gaze didn’t relent.

”To ... keep it together as much as you have ... it's ... insane.”

Entirely against her will, a bit of a dry laugh burst out of her, clipped short as she closed her mouth, though the baffled look remained.

"...how can you say that with a straight face? I’m a bloody mess.”

”You are, and no denying. But compared to anyone else in your position? I'd have crumbled like dry sand.”

"You wouldn't have..."

”I could barely hold the responsibility of being Archdruid, and needed to lean on you all.”

She remained mute, staring up at him for a moment before looking to her feet. He smirked at her.

”I've said all along you're scary. And you've proved me right.”

She allowed a single, concessive, breathy and voiceless laugh through her nose, still looking at her feet as she shook her head again, slowly.

”You've been knocked around, counted out, disregarded, condescended to, used as currency, battered, bruised, left for dead… and yet ... here you are.”

"I'm not as strong as you think I am, Emmanuel."

”Maybe not. But you're stronger than you think you are.”

"...maybe dumber than I think I am."

”You're not dumb. You've made some mistakes, sure. But that doesn't make you dumb. It makes you human.”

He stepped in closer, and drew her against his side with a heavy arm about her shoulder.

”In the end… we love you, Carah. And we want you to win. But we don't want to dictate to you what to do, or how to do it, or try and control you. But we are going to tell you how we see it. And we'll be with you, rise or fall.”

She sighed, looking at her feet still as she stood in his sidelong embrace, limply. And she nodded her soft reply.

”...I know that.”

The precipice yawned before them in the darkness.

She held the letter limply in her hand, staring at it without seeing. A Ffolkman held her other in both of his, blue eyes piercing into her, searching for her. Begging her to come back to him.

”Carah... listen to me. You're nae a monster. You're nae a bad person.”

She didn’t react, maintaining her thousand yard stare, her voice far away and barely registering movement on her lips.

"...Is this worth it, though? Damning someone else in my place?"

A pregnant pause hung between them. She blinked, and dumbly turned listless hazel eyes towards him.

"I... I did it for others. People I… I didn’t even know.”

A faint, painful grimace crept into her expression.

”If a hundred thousand souls aren’t… worth this price… is he?””

The final pause was almost interminable, her long-burning question barely a whisper.

”...Have I strayed so far, Emrys? Is... this what I am now?"

His face fell as he sighed sorrowfully, but his eyes never left hers. He reached up to touch her cheek. His reply was tender and kind as he ran his thumb over the scars on her face.

”Nae… nae, ye cannae ask that of a person, Carah. But he sees what I see, even if ye donnae.”

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. His voice became more insistent, his expression pleading as he leaned towards her, refusing to lose eye contact no matter how she tried to withdraw.

”He’s right in every sense. You donnae deserve any of this s**te that’s been placed on ye. An’ if anyone deserves to be free of all this… it’s ye, Carah.”

He gently turned her shoulders towards him, holding her tenderly by them as he eased them both away from the ledge.

”It’s nae too late for ye, Carah. You’re on the edge of the cliff… but ye’ve nae jumped. And I know ye won’t… the woman I love is too bloody stubborn to give up like this.”

Slowly he removed a hand from her shoulder and placed its palm firmly against her sternum, feeling her heartbeat thrum beneath, his own pulse in his thumb beating in tandem.

“You are still you, Carah. You're still in here…”

Slowly she raised her face to look up at him, ashamed.

”Ye just have to remember."

They looked at one another in fragile silence for a long time, neither of them speaking; their eyes did all the talking for them.

Hers flooded with tears slowly, her lower lip trembling as her face twisted into itself. After a few fleeting moments of fighting, she let herself go, and fell into his arms, burying her face into his chest.

He held her as she went limp, lowering them both to the ground, cradling her and softly shushing her as he rocked her back and forth.

”I’ll nae leave ye, Carah… I’ll never leave yer side."

All defenses and pretenses cast aside, she cried into him, letting everything she had been carrying within her go, allowing him to be the rock she had so desperately needed in this moment. And even through her sorrow, a sense of purpose washed over her. Through her shame, a renewed appreciation for the things that truly mattered to her.

She was still in there, somewhere.

And with him as her beacon… she’d find her again.

Water trickled over the edge of the cliff as the rain began again.

Whispering ghosts’ lies through your teeth
And shadows rally up behind you
Push, erase, and so let your memories be but broken flames
And waste away

I know that you are hurting
No matter what you say
I can’t deny how I feel about you
Would you care to listen
For once in your life?
I can’t deny, or justify your wounds
But to me, you still are you

Cut your past
Let me lead the way
Open up and let me in!
I know the way to the truth

I know that you are hurting
No matter what you say
I can’t deny how I feel about you
Would you care to listen
For once in your life?
I can’t deny, or justify your wounds
But to me, you still are you

You put on a smile
But I know what you keep deep inside
The demons that hold you down
You put on a smile
But I know what you keep deep inside
The demons that hold you down

I know that you are hurting
No matter what you say
I can’t deny how I feel about you
Would you care to listen
For once in your life?
I can’t deny, or justify your wounds
But to me, you still are you

[kersplunk]

Moonlight shone through gaps in the heavy cloud cover shrouding the night sky. A chill wind whipped dust devils along the road winding up through the hills from the Boaryeskr Bridge, torchlight flickering through arrow slits in the distant fort far below.

A wolf howled its forlorn song from far away, its plaintive echoes mirroring the silent testament the road bore to battles fought, blood spilled, lives taken and given freely in the name of ideals and convictions. All to be forgotten as time pressed on in its relentless march, yet she remained, unable to recount to anyone the events of a sordid past to which it had borne witness.

A shadowy figure stood alone on the edge of a switchback along the road to Soubar, overlooking the bridge and the river down the bank. Bedecked with weapons, a cloak bearing the insignia of House Blackrose, and a black hood over a metal mask, the man reached down to pluck bits of scree and weeds from the ground at his feet, flinging them absently down towards the flowing water. He repeated this time and again, and with each toss, the swing of his arm became increasingly aggressive.

He stopped as movement drew his keen, piercing blue eyes, flashing through the slits in his mask. A streak of crimson and purple color was winding up the road towards him, inhumanly fast, trailed by a billowing cloud of dust. His hands snapped to the twin daggers at his hips, every muscle in his body coiled for action.

Just before he drew, however, the smeared blur resolved into the shape of a young woman, her thumping footfalls slowing to a more human pace as she took shape from the ethereal cloud of otherworldly color. Clad in weathered, bloodstained leathers, she was armed with a rapier and a whip, but she did not draw. Thick auburn hair settled about her shoulders from her frenetic approach, shoulders and chest heaving from exertion, and her hazel eyes locked firmly, resolutely on him, filled with purpose.

The man exhaled, relaxing his posture, and met her gaze after a quick scan of the area.

"Are you all right?"

She swallowed hard, catching her breath. By contrast, she seemed entirely unconcerned with anything else in their immediate vicinity, or even her gasping breath. She kept several feet of distance between them, down the hill a ways in a disadvantageous position, her attention solely and firmly on him alone. Without looking away, she pulled a partially crumpled parchment from her belt, half rolled, half folded haphazardly, its seal broken. She held it up before her, swallowing another breath before she managed to form words, staring up at him.

"...what is this?"

Through his mask, those pale blue eyes danced across the woman’s face in an attempt to recognize her cause for hesitation, but the scroll drew his attention once she produced it. A hard swallow pushed the fabric of his hood forward as he stood even more erect.

"You... read it?"

He squared his shoulders, his eyes locked fervently on hers. Though his mask hid his expression, it was clear he stamped out anything further he had to say on the matter.

She listed to her left, her right hand crossing her torso to clutch at her flank with the flash of a tight grimace, morphing quickly into a guilty look that flashed across her countenance. She looked away, brushing a curtain of hair from her face before looking back at him with a slow nod.

"I... I know you said not to. I just..."

"I have to ask."

He replied to her tersely.

"It was not meant to be read beforehand."

He gritted his teeth, twisting hard to one side as he tore his eyes from hers, continuing in a faint growl.

"This… complicates things."

She held her hazel eyes on him, glinting in the moonlight, visibly fighting off the desire to look away. A pregnant silence lingered in the air between them before she spoke softly.

"...Yes."

"It does."

An uncomfortable shift in his stance punctuated the man’s mouth opening to speak again, before it slammed shut. Bouts of heavy breaths betrayed his otherwise poised stature until he caved.

"I didn't mean–"

”Sabyn… shut up for a second.”

Her interruption was not unkind, her empty palm held out towards him to cut off any placation to follow. Sabyn’s teeth ground quietly, and conceding to her demand for silence, he nodded.

She looked down at the letter clenched in her hand for a moment, then back to him, holding it up with a faint shake.

"You meant this."

She paused, letting the gravity of her words sink in, never looking away from him.

"About me. How... How I used to be."

"...Didn't you?"

Another tense silence followed as she waited for his reply, staring up the hill at him, waiting for him to look back to her again.

Finally, with a sigh, he responded quietly.

"Everything in that letter… is the truth."

"All of it."

She was silent for a moment, aside from the little grimace as she shifted her weight, but her eyes never left him.

"...I want to be that person again, Sabyn."

Her voice was so soft it was barely audible. She looked aside, and the moonlight gave away the moisture coating her eyes. Sabyn’s eyes shifted faintly behind his mask, struck with a sudden bout of confusion.

"What do you mean... again? You are that person."

She looked back up at him, frowning a touch. Her lower lip quivered so subtly it was almost missed, were it not for the man’s keen eyes.

"...I... You don't see it now, Sabyn. A... A lot has happened since we first met."

He scoffed, gesturing with a wave of his hand in a southwesterly direction with a gloved hand as he nodded.

"Oh, I see it. I see it clearer than any one of them."

She exhaled, slumping a little as she looked at the sky, wiping at her eyes with her fingertips. Doing so elicited another wince and a favoring of her left flank again.

"I shouldn't care what they think, Sabyn. I... They don't matter in the end."

"You're right."

His head shifted to get a better view of the side she favored. With a half-step forward, he bent further, casting a scrutinizing eye at her.

"I… need to find that person again. Whether they see it or not."

He held up a hand for silence, his gaze shifting from the source of her discomfort back to her eyes.

"What happened?"

She looked back to him, interrupted, and followed his probing look with her own eyes, down to the flank she cradled. With a groan, she shakes her head, turning her injured side away from him.

"An arrow. It’s… nothing. I’m fine, it’s wrapped and has a poultice on it.”

Sabyn closed his eyes as the words left her lips. With a deep inhale his nostrils flared, causing him to straighten further.

”Gods dammit…”

Her brows knit at the shift in demeanor, head tilted, frowning at him. After a moment, he turned completely around, looking straight back to her eyes, and held up his hands, facing her..

"Okay. Okay. Look."

He deflated. The militaristic bearing and stoic air about him evaporated entirely, leaving him strangely vulnerable under her puzzled gaze.

"Whatever you need. I'll help you find it. End of story. Whatever you need of me I am happy to do, I don’t care what it is."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling steadily.

"But please… Please... for the love of all the gods.... just... try to stay out of harm's way until this s**t with your soul is handled."

She continued to stare at him as if the armed and armored soldier before her had completely lost his mind. And despite the fearsome shadow Sabyn cast, before her, he seemed raw. Unarmored. One more word was whispered, desperate and unguarded.

"Please."

She looked out towards the waterway to her left for a moment, her lips pursing together. Sabyn’s hands fell limp to his sides, and briefly, he almost appeared as if he might fall to his knees.

The silence dragged on for interminable seconds before finally, she looked back at him. Turning to face him, she closed the distance between them by four paces, flicking the last three fingers of the hand holding the parchment towards the ground.

"Take your mask off, Sabyn."

Sabyn’s breathing quickened as she approached, but he held his ground, steely blue eyes watching her through the mask.

"I want to talk to you."

Reluctantly, with a slow rise of his right arm, Sabyn gripped the mask between his thumb and forefinger, removing it. A short, metallic clatter resounded as he tossed it onto the rocks by his feet.



A sharp-angled face with a permanently severe, taut expression looked down to her. A thick black beard hid his mouth, beneath a hooked nose, and those piercing, electric blue eyes. But although this was a man accustomed to giving orders - orders which one look at him would tell you that disobeying them would be a mistake - before her, he was supplicant. Almost powerless.

She held her eyes on his. While there was a visible trace of the old characteristic kindness in them, they were also laced with a skeletal reinforcement of steel. She spoke to him softly, but her tone was unyielding.

"You said you believed you saw who I was. Do you truly believe I'm so fragile? That I'll sit on my hands while I watch others fight my battles for me?"

Instantly, Sabyn’s eyes flashed as he riled. He moved to speak, but once again closed his mouth. After a deep breath, he closed his eyes to respond.

"What I think... is that the cost for you is much higher than it is for others right now. Gods forbid, what happens if you die, Carah?”

He bristled again, his voice edging on anger as he stepped forward, looking down at her again.

”You are indentured to a demon lord. A demon lord. If you die… you belong to him.”

She lifted her chin, staring right back up at him.

"Do you think that hasn't occurred to me?"

He sighed, gentling, but advanced on her another step. She took one step back, and held her ground, refusing to take her defiant gaze from him.

After lingering there in their standoff for a moment, he deflated again, his voice calm once more.

"I'm not asking you to sit out."

"I wouldn't even if you did.”

At her flat retort, he couldn’t help a laugh.

"You think I don't know that, too? You're stubborn. Hard-headed... and… beautifully convicted."

He nodded at her, the smirk softening to a gentle smile on his hardened features.

"I admire that. I'm simply asking you... to be careful. It's not just–"

He stopped, choking on his words. His expression going rigid, he looked away, refusing to continue.

For a moment, Carah almost looked like she'd argue further. She held her tongue, however, and with a slow breath out through her nose, lips pressed together, she nodded, looking aside as she nudged a strand of hair from her eyes with her thumb.

"I'm trying to be. As much as I can. But gods damn it, Sabyn... you know this can't be done without risk."

He took a breath, not looking her way as he quietly responded in a halting voice.

"You're important."

He sighed deeply, and shook his head as he looked back to her, solemn.

"Too important."

"I'm nobody."

"That is NOT true!"

The sudden flare of anger and the shouted outburst caught her off guard. Though she held herself from flinching, her posture tensed, and her hand clutched tightly at the hilt of her sword.

He advanced a few paces down the incline on her, jaw tightening.

"You are NOT nobody. Do not say that. Don’t ever say that.”

Carah stood there, holding her ground, hand on her weapon, but the look of alarm in her eyes must have given him pause. Sabyn’s eyes shifted as he noticed her reaction, and with another deep breath, he put his hands up, somehow making himself appear smaller.

"You never have anything to fear from me, Carah."

Her eyebrow fluttered faintly upwards, but she didn’t relax.

"Considering what's in my future if I don't change this, why do you think I'd be afraid of you?”

"That wasn't my point and you know it."

They stared at one another for several tense seconds before, finally, she released her weapon hilt and put the letter away, holding up her hands in turn as she looked to the ground between them. Another few seconds, and she looked up at him, her wary expression having been supplanted by one of tired resignation as she lightly tossed her head a little to clear the curtain of hair from her eyes.

”Okay. All right. This is stupid. I’m not here to circle each other and bare our teeth like fighting dogs.”

He sighed again, nodding and shrinking a little further. Gathering his thoughts, he spoke to her again, calmly and quietly.

”Carah… the bottom line here… if something happens to you?”

He held the thought, letting it linger heavily in the air between them before, defeated, he admitted:

”...My soul might as well die, too.”

She looked at him again for a moment. One of her hands closed to point at him, pushing faintly forward and back.

”That. That’s why I’m here.”

”No need. I want nothing. I expect nothing.”

He put his hand up for silence to still her, but she instead interrupted him.

”Let me speak, Sabyn.”

Now it was his turn to be caught off guard. The hardened man was accustomed to giving orders, not taking them. And while her voice had not been unkind, or even raised, there was a gravity to her words, a presence about her that made it clear she would not be denied.

After slowly craning his head to one side, he conceded, gesturing towards her in invitation.

"I already made this mistake. Selling my soul for the sake of one, or a million..."

She sighed, her semi-aggressive posture relaxing some as her voice dropped in volume and conviction.

"...It's too much. It's not worth it, Sabyn. And your letter..."

He listened to her quietly, watching her.

"...it... It reminded me of who I used to be. Who I wanted to be. Who I want to be again. And that person wouldn't accept what you're offering."

She looked away.

"I shouldn't have. I was wrong to do it."

"I wasn't offering. I made a choice."

Her eyes whisked back to him, and if one looked closely, it almost appeared as if she had been slapped, and did a masterful job of concealing it.

"It's mine to make."

"It is. But I don't want that. I don't want that on my conscience either."

"It shouldn't be on your conscience, Carah. You didn't ask me. Hell, I'm not letting you convince me otherwise. This is something I do of my own accord. Willingly."

She looked towards the sky, exhaling slowly. He held his gaze on her, as if offering an unspoken, reluctant apology, but was unmoved in his reticent assurance.

"...I still don't know if I can stomach it."

"Carah. I wrote that letter so that you wouldn't feel like this. So that you could see... what I see."

She lowered her eyes to him, and after a brief pause, she closed the distance. It wasn’t quite a challenge, but would be wrong to say it wasn’t one, either. His breathing quickened as he stood up straighter, swallowing a lump in his throat, but he held her gaze, and gave no ground.

”How can you even be sure I am what you think you see, Sabyn? That you aren’t just… remembering what I wanted everyone to see?”

He remained motionless, but the fluttering, rapid movement in his sharp blue eyes betrayed the storm in his mind.

She continued, laying a hand over the letter shoved into her belt, shaking her head sadly.

”The girl you met, Sabyn… that was a long time ago.”

”...Maybe it’s because I see who you really are.”

She frowned at him, still shaking her head, her shoulders dropping.

”It’s not, Sabyn.”

Her voice was forlorn and distant. They stood there facing one another, separated now only by a few feet.

”The person you met… she was a lie. A lie I kept telling myself over and over again… because I wanted to be different than I had been. I wanted to be better than I had been…”

”...to be the person you chose to be, not the person the world forced you to be.”

She swallowed hard, and closed her mouth. A single, faint nod confirmed how he had finished her thought.

Sabyn’s breath came more furiously as his composure began to falter under her presence. He looked at the ground between them, closing his eyes.

”...that light, Carah. It’s always been there.”

He refused to meet her eyes. Taking a deep breath to gather himself, he continued.

”Whether you listened to it or not is irrelevant. It’s always been there.”

”Because of others who guided me.”

He nodded simply, raising his face to hers.

”Because of people who raised me. Who loved me. People I’ve disappointed time and time again.”

They held one another’s eyes in silence for a time. She, to let her words sink in, he, because he was unable to bring himself to speak.

She pressed her hand more firmly onto the letter.

”This… reminded me of that. It said what I didn’t realize I needed to hear. And for some reason, Sabyn… it had so much more impact coming from you. Maybe because it’s been a long time since I last saw you. Maybe because you just remember me as a fresher face than I am now. But whatever the reason…it… it hit me.”

”Hard.”

He nodded to her, a gesture far too small for a man who cast such a powerful shadow.

”...Good.”

She grimaced. After working her mouth silently a few times, unable to grasp the words, she lightly tossed a hand, dismissing it with a quiet sigh, and looked back at him.

”I just… I need to know that you know what you’re doing. To know that you’re sure. I know I didn’t ask for it. I know it’s your choice, but gods damn it Sabyn… eternity is a long bloody time.”

"There are worse things."

Her eyebrows lifted.

"Name one.”

Sabyn looked back at her from far away, even standing only a few feet from her.

"That... is something you'd have to see for yourself. I pray to all the gods that never happens, and I don’t pray."

She peered back up at him, uncertain and wary, her lips parting to speak, but the only sound that came forth was his name, voiced as a question.

”...Sabyn?”

Meeting her eyes again, he sighed and bowed his head.

"Carah… I'm content to do this."

She just looked at him, closing her mouth, her eyes searching his face, and only finding torment.

”Eternity would seem… a lot longer…”

The unthinkable happened: Sabyn’s voice broke ever so slightly. He trembled, lowering his head further, his volume dropping to a whisper.

"I would rather spend eternity knowing I did what, in my heart, I knew I needed to do… than live five eternities regretting that I didn't."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, continuing to search his face with her eyes, standing there with her arms limp at her sides, her posture drooped. His head remained bowed, eyes closed, equally defeated for a moment before he returned his eyes to her. When he did, she could see the conviction in his face. He had given this a lot of thought.

She took another small step towards him.

"Can.. I ask you a question, then?"

"Anything."

"If we find another way… will you take it instead?"

"Yes."

The speed of the response seemed to tell her everything she needed to hear. A solemn nod followed, her eyes never leaving his.

”I will do whatever is necessary. If another way becomes apparent, Carah, I will take it instead. But in the end, if I do nothing… I will never forgive myself.”

”...what about me?”

He looked back to her in bewildered surprise at her counter-question. She was frowning up at him, head canted.

”Why should I feel any different if I didn’t at least try to talk you out of this? You keep saying you’re set on this, Sabyn, that I’m worth it, that you’re content with it. Well I’m not, Sabyn.”

Her chin rose a little as she took another step closer up the hill, and once again, she saw him wither further under her increasing proximity, despite still yet having the high ground.

”Haven’t you been listening? This is nothing but an endless cycle of people jumping in front of arrows for someone else. I did this to save other people, and I wish I hadn’t.”

She quivered a little, her breath hitching, but she held an ironclad gaze up at him. Pausing, she lowered her voice to a gentler, sadder timbre. He didn’t look away.

”...If I let you do this, Sabyn… then the person you remember is already dead.”

Unable to bear her eyes any longer, he dropped his face to the ground again, swallowing visibly, and rubbed a hand down his face and into his beard.

”It’s different. Just…. different.”

He waved his other hand, listlessly, towards the letter in Carah’s belt.

"It's taken me until that letter… to figure out what I've been hiding from for years."

Carah watched him with a pleading frown, her voice falling further in volume.

”What, Sabyn? What have you been hiding from?”

”Myself.”

Sabyn looked towards the thick clouds overhead, scanning them distantly for a time before looking back at her, and forcing a smile. Those cold blue eyes of his, however, betrayed the heavy heart in his chest.

”I should have told you everything from the start. I never should have listened to them. I shouldn’t have stayed away.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The heavy rise and fall of his chest betrayed his poise once again.

She continued looking up at him for a time, until, with a slow exhale through her nose, she let her eyes trail slowly down the length of his armor and to the ground between them.

"...Someone.... used to always say something to me."

Pause.

”Try.”

Another pause, and she lifted her eyes to meet his again. When she did, however, they were softer, kinder, and wistful.

"Try. And keep trying. Even when you don't want to get back up."

She made a face.

"...And I'm aware of how s**t a job I've done with it of late. So point out the hypocrisy all you like... it stands."

”I never wanted you to feel like this, Carah. That’s why I wro–”

”Well too bad.”

He startled slightly once again at her terse interruption. Her eyes once again were firm and unyielding. And while she didn’t advance on him further, her comparatively modest size might as well have been twice that of his in the moment.

”You cain’t stop me from feeling this way, Sabyn. No more’n I can stop you from feelin’ like the way out of this is throwin’ your own life away, too. You made your choice, and I made mine. It don’t mean neither of us has to like it.”

He stared down at her for a long time in silence, and she stared right back, defiantly. Slowly and gradually, he lowered his head, closing his eyes, and nodded.

”...I know.”

”Swear it to me, Sabyn.”

After several heavy breaths, she deflated, softening, and spoke more gently.

"Swear to me that you'll take another way out if we find it."

He met her eyes again, directly, his head moving before the reticent words left his lips.

”Unless we find another way out for you… this is the road I intend to take. My only concern in all of this, Carah, is seeing you free. I don’t care what the cost is.”

A heavy pause.

”...But I swear to you I’ll try.”

[kersplunk]

All wear a mask.

For some it’s a means of concealment, meant to obfuscate their true intentions. For others, a means of entertainment, donning silly or joyously nonsensical faces meant to delight the people around them, sometimes for a living, other times merely for the rewarding fulfillment that comes with bettering the lives of fellow men. And for some it is a means of defense, a way to protect the dark and vulnerable parts of one’s self from unwelcome eyes, or to shield oneself from the pain of knowing that revealing too much would disappoint those whose approval they seek.

It may not always be a physical mask, but all bear one in some form or another.

A discarded and forgotten mask hammered from steel and mithril lay abandoned in some hellish place unseen and untouched by most mortals, far removed from the familiarity of Toril. A frigid wind kicked up plumes of fine dust about its half buried features, the eternal night of the colorless, lifeless, washed-out frozen hellscape bearing down from all sides. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, only the biting chill wind howled relentlessly, slowly burying the thing in silt and dust.

"He can't be allowed to have that sword!"

"I told you how I'd give it to him."

"So be it. You are mine, whelp."

"Garganix! I command you, stop this at once!"

"You do not command me any longer."

"I recover that sword and it's in your possession, she is free? Those are the binding terms?"

"Sabyn, you have no idea what you’re doing!"

"It is already done. Be silent, woman."

With a booming laugh, the balor vanished in a cloud of shadow and flame. The ankle deep water rippled and glinted in the only light the yawning damp cavern saw, emanating from the young woman’s amulet. She stood squared off across from the lean, bearded man whom was her only remaining companion, fists clenched at her sides, her hazel eyes burning with taut, silent fury.

The man faced her, solemn and unafraid, opening his hands to either side in surrender, bowing his head.

"Go ahead. Say everything you need to say."

She didn’t move or speak for several seconds, only stood there trembling in anger. When nothing happened, he lifted his eyes to look at her directly.

And he was met in the chin with a savage right cross, sending him bowling over backwards with a splash.

"And what!?"

She stomped through the water to stand over him, bristling, shaking out her right hand and grimacing from the dull pain of striking him.

"What will that do!? You didn’t listen to me! Now not only have I lost control of that thing I’ve loosed on our plane, you’ve pacted YOURSELF to it now, too!

The man winced, touching his fingers to his broken lower lip, working his aching jaw back and forth as he lay back in the water, propped up on his elbow. Peering at the blood on his fingers first, he then held the hand up towards her in a bid for calm, his own voice steady and unriled.

"I did, Carah. I listened to you more than you know. When this is over… it will be over."

Carah’s retort came in a barking shriek as she reached down for his tunic, violently giving him a shake as she stooped over the prone man.

"You’ve made it worse!!! How do you know ANYthing!? Did you not SEE that thing!? It’s ten times bigger than it was when I first bound it!!!"

"Of course I did."

"And now you’ve BOUND yourself to it, Sabyn! You’ve promised to hand over something that will make his master – MY master – unstoppable!"

Firm hands grasped her by the wrists, yanking them free and out to either side. Cool blue eyes stared fiercely back into hers.

"No. I promised he’d have possession of it. That’s what I promised him."

Carah jerked at her hands to free her wrists from the iron grip, but he held firm. Defiantly, she sneered down at him, still standing over him, despite her arms being held out to either side.

"I intend to destroy that thrice-damned book, not play into his sick f***ing game!"

"Well."

Sabyn smirked up at her, jostling as she struggled, his lower lip still bleeding.

"Now we have another plan. A backup, as you wanted."

With another furious jerk, she wrenched her wrists away from his hands, and he let her go, slowly climbing to his feet. He looked at his bloodied fingers as he dabbed his jaw again.

She scoffed at him indignantly, sloshing a few paces away from him through the water, but never took her glaring eyes off of his.

"So did I. And you may very well have ruined it."

She bristled. He remained calm.

"I am not playing into his hands, Carah. If the book cannot be destroyed and we cannot find it… we'll use that sword. And give it to him straight through his heart."

"By even bringin’ that blasted sword near, yes you bloody well are. If he wins? If he beats you? What then?"

"I don’t fight fair."

She snorted at him angrily.

"Neither do bloody demons, Sabyn. And they got a hells of a lot more practice at it than either of us do."

"You think I don't on some level have an idea of what I'm doing?"

He advanced on her a step, and her retort was cut short by a roughened hand held up, coupled with his steely, calm glare.

"I told you before, Carah. I don’t care what has to be done. I don’t care what the cost is. Your name will be stricken from that book, and your soul set free. Nothing else is relevant…"

He trailed off, closing his hand and letting it fall to his side. A pause, a sigh, and he concluded.

"Including me."

Carah’s resolve faltered, her fury giving way to despair as she bit back a hitched, shuddering breath. Still glowering at him even as tears began to sting her eyes, she retorted in a petulant voice.

"You aren’t. I don’t give a sh*t what you say. You made me realize what I was becoming, Sabyn. The path I was on. And I refuse to follow it any more. I won’t treat you like some gods-damned game piece."

Silence hung in the air between them for a beat, and Sabyn’s shoulders slowly dropped, his ironclad demeanor unraveling at the seams. He lowered his eyes, nodding.

"...I know, Carah."

His voice was softer. A different man now stood in his place, it seemed.

"I know the path you were on, because I have been on it. I… never want you to end up like… like me."

He scanned the damp, dark cave once more before looking back to her, deflating even further as he saw her cover her face with both hands.

"It isn’t too late for you, Carah. You are not already broken… I am."

Instantly her face snapped up toward him once again, twisting into a stunted mask of anger. Her hands went into fists again, and she tensed as if she wanted to hit him another time, and snapped at him in a thickening provincial accent.

"You’re so damn sure of that, are you? So certain you are that you’re willin’ to risk not only yourself but everyone else, including me."

"No. I’m not risking you either. You think I would take that chance after everything?"

His immediate response was terse, but he quickly softened again, taking another tentative step towards her, despite her taut stance and balled fists.

"I know you don't see it. I know you don't understand it..."

Carah fought to maintain her furious glare as she held her hands in fists, but her breath quickened, her hands starting to tremble. Sabyn took another step towards her, and she faltered, her eyes wildly darting several directions before her resolve failed her.

She collapsed onto her knees, raking her clawed fingers into her forehead and temples, huddling forward and quivering in desperate, erratic breaths just shy of sobs. Sabyn winced almost as sharply as when she’d punched him, and moved to her side, dropping onto one knee in the water. He reached for her to comfort her, but she sprang like a bear trap as soon as he made contact, throwing his hands off of her shoulders.

"How can I trust you!?"

She barked at him furiously, unreasoning despair in her hazel eyes.

"You spied on me. Your bloody house started all of this, Sabyn!"

He simply stared at her, no longer even pretending to be poised. Unarmored, broken, and visibly crumbling at the seams he looked right back into her wild glare. She twitched, gritting her teeth, and buried her face in her hands again in utter, contemptuous inability to look back at him.

He drew in a shuddering breath of his own, struggling to force body into his breaking voice as he reached for her again, gently cradling both sides of her head in his hands, cautiously at first, and more firmly when she didn’t throw him off again.

"Carah… I didn’t spy on you to hurt you. I kept you at arm’s length, watched from a distance so you wouldn’t be hurt."

She scoffed bitterly, her reply laced with sarcastic derision.

"Fine bloody job you did."

"I did what I could to protect you, Carah. I swear it. But it wasn’t enough. And that’s what I intend to set right."

She shivered, withdrawing further into herself. He choked on his words as he continued, stroking her auburn hair even as she pulled away, looking over what he could see of her with sorrowful, enraptured eyes.

"You signed your soul to stop the pain of a hundred thousand people. I sold mine to stop the pain of one. You have… no idea what lengths I’ll go to in order to see this set right. To see you truly live again… even if you hate me for it."

Dropping her hands from her face and turning away from him again, Carah remained kneeling in the water, looking up at the motes of light reflected from her amulet dancing across the cavern’s ceiling. Her expression was awash with conflicting telltale signs of lamentation, fury, confusion, and hopelessness, her eyes a thousand miles away.

Sabyn spoke gently to her again.

"This will work, Carah."

At that, Carah looked at him with a nonplussed stare, as if he’d just said a jumble of words that made no sense in their current order. After a beat, she rose to her feet, pulling her shoulders back, standing up to her full height. He rose with her to stand over her again, but their eyes remained locked together.

She tilted her head back, taking in a long, calming breath.

"I don’t want to hear reassurances. I want a plan. I’m tired of hoping, and praying, and believing."

Digging the heels of her hands into her eyes for a moment to clear the blur from her vision before dropping them to her sides, she fixes him with another stolid stare, even through her reddened, tired, tear stained eyes.

"I only agree to this if you don’t do it alone. You’re not a god, Sabyn. I’m not gambling my freedom on your bravado. Do you understand me? You are getting backup from other beings just as powerful. Beings I was working to gain help from before you royally screwed everything up with this stupid stunt."

Then it was Sabyn’s turn to straighten. He took a step forward, ripples of water rolling under the heavy footfalls, distorting the shadowed image and reflection of his face that peered back at him like an unwanted guest. He lifted his chin slowly, his eyes eventually adjusting to focus back on her, the thick, wet locks of hair that now stuck to the man's face draping one side of his forehead. He wiped a sweaty hand from top to bottom of it, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts. With a pause, he closed his eyes briefly, an obvious effort to decompress some.

"First of all, I'm not staking your freedom on bravado. I'm not an idiot."

Idle drops of water dripped from his left hand as he began, pointing at her, his reflection in the water now completely distorted. He continued in a confident voice.

"This was the only call to make at this moment. I've already told you the basics. We use this as a means to help facilitate the destruction of the book and kill the balor with the weapon he covets so badly."

Half incensed, half driven to begging by his response, Carah bent towards him at the waist, cupping her upturned hands before her as she shouted back at him, her expression twisting.

"It’s Orcus that wants the blade, gods damn it!"

She shuddered again, swallowing and turning away to start pacing, forking her fingers through her hair and pulling at it as her reply shifted into a rant.

"Orcus! Not Garganix! And giving it to him will just screw everything, making my freedom completely pointless, Sabyn! I already screwed up by unleashing that… that thing into the Material Plane, foolishly thinking I was doing something to help here. Even if we do manage to kill Garganix with that sword, and overlooking that I don’t believe for a blasted second that he’s telling me the truth about that being my purpose–"

She casted a scornful side-eye at him as she paced and ranted, waggling her index finger in his direction as she adds her afterthought in a dropped, derisive tone.

"It won’t fulfill a thing! And what if they see it coming? If they overpower us? What then?"

Sabyn watched her slosh back and forth through the water stoically, his jaw set, icy blue irises expanding and contracting as he listened to her, letting her get through her tirade as he observed her frantic body language. When she finished, he waited for a moment to see if she would cease her pacing in kind, but she didn’t.

He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, nostrils flaring, and shook his head faintly while turning his gaze towards the lichen sticking to the cave’s walls, and lifted a hand to show her his palm in a returned semi-plea of his own, his voice composed, but rigid.

"I may not have all the answers. Might not do things the way other people would, but one thing I won't do is sit on my damn hands and do nothing. I expected you of all people to understand."

With a huff, he focused back on her, lips forming into a straight line, quiet exasperation betraying some of his composed bearing.

"What would you have me do, Carah? If you think I take the word of a demon to be ironclad you don't know me very well. I know he's lying. They all lie. That doesn't change anything."

He concealed the waver in his voice with a heavy breath, his chest rising and falling in a steady beat.

"All the more reason to do what I said. You wanted alternative options. If killing him somehow doesn't strike your name from that book, Orcus will have no choice but to deal with me directly, and at that point I will no longer be marked. And that's assuming none of the other options fare any better."

Wheeling on him, hazel eyes and nostrils flaring at him, she ceased her pacing, stomping through the sloshing water in a straight line for him, and was on him in fewer strides than one might have expected from one with her relatively modest height. She reached forward, snatching his leathers in her fists, firmly, and shook him a little as she stared desperately up into his blues.

"Sabyn, don’t do this. I’m begging you. This isn’t worth it! If you know they lie, then you HAVE to know you’ve just broken your own leg here! This doesn’t help! We were going to try to get the sword anyway to draw him out! I wasn’t lying when I said I’m working on it!"

Her voice rose in pitch and volume as she tightened her grip, an unreasoning near panic in her eyes.

"I want to destroy that book, not play into his hands! If it’s even remotely possible, I want to destroy him! And we can’t do that, Sabyn! Not alone and unaided, we’re mortal!"

"And YOU—!"

She stopped, either out of breath, out of words, or out of energy for her tirade. While she didn’t release her grip on his leathers, she hung her head in defeat, shuddering again.

Sabyn's eyes imperceptibly shifted in an almost desperate search to find some unspoken truth on Carah's face. Otherwise, he didn’t respond, he stood motionless, hands to his sides allowing her to speak and shake him to her heart’s content until she had finished with her outburst.

Slowly, and deliberately, he lifted his right hand and placed it palm down on one of the forearms clutching his leathers, his brow knitted tightly.

"Me, what?"

His tone was clear, his face still somewhat scrunched in what was either confusion or hesitance. Tipping his chin toward his chest he looked toward the top of her bowed head in an effort to will her into lifting her eyes to him again.

Carah took a moment to gather herself, to steady her breathing, and to soothe her raging blood. Slowly, steadily, she lifted her head to stare directly back up into his eyes, searching, pleading, the shimmering light in them that he had so fervently pointed out to her dying, but far from dead.

She spoke to him in a quiet voice, the frenzy and panic behind her words deflated and spent.

"I don’t care what you say, Sabyn. About you being broken. I don’t care. You made me believe I’m not."

She emphasized her followed repetition with a weary shake on the leathers in her fist as her gaze drilled into him with such quiet intensity it was almost startling.

"You made me believe. You can’t take that away from me now. Because if there’s hope for me, there’s hope for anyone, Sabyn. If you condemn yourself in my place, I will have to go to my grave with that on my conscience. Knowing that there was a chance for both of us... and knowing that I didn’t take it."

Sabyn's eyes did not deviate from Carah's hazel orbs, but it was plain to see the effort it took from him to not look away. Instead, the corners of his mouth pulled upward in silent acknowledgement. He squeezed her wrist with a gentle pulse of his right hand.

"Carah.. This is my chance."

His quiet words coincided with a lowering of his head. He kept eye contact with her, the upturned corners of his mouth offering a silent plea of understanding.

"If you have anything on your conscience... it should be that I'm not condemning myself... I'm redeeming myself. And were it not for you, that wouldn't be possible."

He furrowed his brow slightly after a moment, his lips still maintaining his smile and stance.

"Having said that... I give you my word. If I can alleviate the burden on you. I will."

She stared back into his eyes.

Silent and unmoving, fists still gripping his leathers, her hazel orbs twitched back and forth between his blue ones as she searched them for a heartbeat or an eternity; it was difficult to tell which it was.

At last, she slowly relaxed her grip on his leathers, letting her hands fall limply to her sides, but her eyes didn’t fall with them. They remained as they were, piercing back up into his blues, her face humorless and solemn.

"...You don’t get to make that choice for me."

Another moment of tense silence passed, her gaze held until, finally, her shoulders dropped a touch with a heavy, drawn out, resigned sigh as she looked away. A curtain of hair fell free, partially obscuring her face from him.

He watched her, shaking her head quietly a few times before, his eyes eventually diverting for a moment to the drowned stone beneath their feet.

"I... don't want to make any choices for you."

Another moment passed before he stepped forward, circling her, craning his head towards his shoulder to try to steal a look at her hidden face. As she caught him in her peripheral vision, she withdrew further, turning her head a fraction of an inch further away to keep her eyes from his sight, closing them.

"I’m here to help you, Carah. Whether that’s submitting to a demon lord, killing one, or anything in between…"

Once more he stepped and leaned, trying to see her face. And once more she turned further away. He concluded in a hushed tone:

"...I’ll do anything."

Carah hugged her arms across her abdomen, refusing to look back at him, her own voice small, eyes closed in the dim light of her amulet.

"Then tell me what you’ve done. Tell me what stains you so badly that this is the only way to wash it away."

Sabyn's eyes shifted again, his blue Iris' expanded nearly to the size of his fingertip. Sighing, he held both hands out to his sides.

"Carah. I've never done a selfless thing in all my life. Everything… everything I've ever done has been for personal gain. Manipulation, murder, theft... Hell, you were warned not to even talk to me."

He sighed again, heavily, taking a half turn and splashing water up the side of his leg as he looked away to some far corner of the cave ceiling the light of Carah’s amulet did not reach.

As he did so, she turned her head to look at him, watching him through her hair for a moment. As he continued, she slowly, purposefully lifted her hand from where it was crossed over her belly, brushing the concealing curtain of hair aside.

"It's not a coincidence that people view me as a living embodiment of the plague, Carah. Never had a reason to give a s**t about anyone other than myself."

He turned to face her again, lifting both hands in the air, palms up. And while his posture and expression were weary, there was absolute conviction in his voice.

"Until… you. Which is why I'd rather die than see you become even a shade of what I am."

She was looking at him fully, then. Searching. Waiting.

Pondering.

Her lips parted to speak, but no words came. With a few attempts, she abandoned the effort, and closed her mouth again, looking away once more with a heavy sigh.

"Is what Hanner said true? Is Morgan really gone? Or does she still have some part in this?"

Looking back to him again, slowly, she arrested his eyes with her own in a manner that he found impossible to resist.

"Tell me the truth."

Sabyn tilted his head at the seemingly out of nowhere question, puzzled. Even so, he gave a direct answer, without hesitation.

"Morgan is gone. If she weren't... she would have been the first person I would have gone to, to get your name out of that f***ing book."

"And Amelia?"

She turned her shoulders to face him squarely, putting her hands on her hips, staring intently across the way at him.

He shook his head.

"She's in Waterdeep. She has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with this."

Her retort was sharp. An index finger drove through the air in his direction like a dagger, her eyes flashing momentarily as her lips curled back.

"If it weren’t for Amelia, Morgan would never have noticed me and I’d never have gotten tangled up in this bloody mess in the first place."

With a quiet sigh and an upheaval of his chest, he lowered his eyes once again toward her feet.

"This is about you Carah. Not my house. I'm acting on my own volition."

She lowered her hand, staring flatly at him.

"Are you loyal to Amelia, or aren’t you?"

His eyes rose to her again, and he stared at her in silence for a long, hushed moment. She could easily see the roiling tempest he now found himself in through the windows of his eyes, but her glare only intensified. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he answered, his chest heaving with anxious breaths as he choked on his quiet words.

"I'm loyal to you."

She blinked. The subtle forward lean to her posture straightened somewhat, the tension in her expression faltering for the ghost of an instant before setting again.

"You didn’t answer my question."

"Yes… I did."

.

"Oh come on, Sabyn–"

She snorted, throwing her hands up in a show of exasperation as she began pacing a few steps back and forth each way, back and forth, back and forth, but keeping her eyes on him. A mocking sneer accompanied her continuation.

"Loyalty given, loyalty received. That’s y’all’s whole mantra, isn’t it? I asked you if you were loyal to that black hearted bitch that started all of this when she decided I owed her for Grath’s life."

Sabyn’s breath began heaving again, his jaw tightening as he watched her pace like a caged animal, bore her barbs, and weathered her sneer. His pupils dilated again, his fists clenching at his sides.

She stopped pacing, and advanced on him a step, pointing aggressively at him once more.

"Answer me."

He snapped, bellowing back at her in a sudden roar. Tendons in his neck bulged as he spewed his reply, waving his fists over his head.

"Yes, Carah! It’s our creed! I am loyal to Ameila until the point at which it would harm you! In which case I would without hesitation betray my house and sentence myself to death!"

Carah flinched slightly at the outburst, but she held her ground even as he closed the distance on her, shouting down at her from no more than two feet away. Her pointing hand came down slowly, but she held a resolute, cool stare back up into his wild, frantic eyes."

"The reason I even became Inquisitor to House Blackrose is because I betrayed Morgan. I don't have, nor did I ever have, any allegiance to her or her twisted games. And had I known that she was responsible for what happened back then, I would have killed her myself… or died trying. So yes, Carah. I am loyal to Amelia… but I will betray her in your name if it comes to that. Is that what you want to hear!?"

As his temporary lapse in composure subsided after a few more heavy, furious breaths, he reached his right hand to his mouth to cover the bottom half of his face. Turning away, he screwed his eyes closed, loosing one more long breath, shaking his head.

With a toss of his free hand aside, he concluded, turning his face down to the ground.

"See? Living plague."

Her jaw clenched as she stared coolly at him. Distantly.

With a long, steady breath, her expression softened somewhat, but not fully. While understanding crept into her eyes, the solid set to the muscles in her face remained—mostly—as it was.

"Yes."

Her voice, however, despite the look on her face, was gentle. Almost sorrowful in its somber disappointment, but not without empathy. She held her quiet eyes on him, even as it seemed to be his turn to avoid looking at her.

"Yes. It’s what I wanted to hear."

Sabyn stood there quietly with the bottom half of his face still gripped between his thumb and index finger. After a long silence he opened his eyes only to be confronted by the unwavering stare of his own reflection in the water below. Refusing to meet its gaze he took a few heavy steps forward, instinctively balling up his fists in the process.

He cleared his throat, brushing the strands of wet hair stuck to his forehead back in a sweeping motion, touching the dried blood on his lip before turning around.

As his blue eyes hesitantly found hers he lowered them, slightly at first and then once again to her boots. He was clearly ashamed, and while he meant every word, the outburst came as much as a surprise to him as it did her.

"Well. Now you know."

She looked back at him still, but the look in her eyes was no longer one of pleading, unreasoning desperation. It was forlorn. Longing for the unattainable.

A look of remorseful pity given to a dead man.

Sabyn stood there gradually working up the courage to meet her eyes before offering her a sympathetic and shallow smile.

She looked away, and the voice that followed was thin and resigned, a stark contrast to the one that had preceded it.

"...I… I can’t return… those feelings, Sabyn."

The words visibly pained her to utter, but the necessity of them was not diminished, even if her posture was. She closed her own eyes, shutting out the cave around her, and for another moment the only sounds around them was the rippling water at their ankles.

As she turned away his head began to follow her but stopped short. He stood there otherwise motionless, watching her in silent adoration. He parted his lips but no words followed; he was left breathless.

"...but ...I won’t forget this. If it works... I won’t forget it."

She opened her eyes, looking across at him again, openly. Maskless… her eyes permeated with sadness.

"Ever."

In that moment Sabyn's world collided with itself. He understood that look... and the torture behind it. To some extent, it was the one he hid behind his cowl. The same one he drowned in whiskey every day. The feeling of an ache you can never mend or the despair of wanting something so completely you'd sell your own soul to have it... only to be faced with the reality that it was never yours to have.

After a long, uninterrupted silence Sabyn offered her another smile even though she couldn't see it. Quietly he reached for his metallic mask, slipping it over his head, concealing his face as he drew up his hood.

She turned her face away from his mask, closing her eyes. As though on an unfelt puff of a breeze, a few strands of her hair fell loose to partially obscure the side of her face, the right side, the unscarred cheek. The one facing him.

She remained motionless for several seconds before finally lifting her face slightly towards the ceiling. She reached up to brush another errant tear’s trail off of her cheek, and blew out a heavy breath, her shoulders slumping as if that lungful of air were the only thing propping her up.

"I have to go."

Her voice was little more than a near-silent rasp, choked and hollow, as she looked towards the one and only entrance to the watery cave.

Sabyn tilted his chin toward his chest a single time, his blue eyes drifting to trace the features of her face, through the eyeholes of his mask, his expression once again hidden from her.. With a step forward he reached for the cuff of his right arm in an absent-minded attempt to straighten it.

"Just remember something."

He stopped his natural progression forward, causing the end of his cloak to swing gently into the water at his feet.

She had taken a few steps towards the exit, but his words stopped her. She didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, bring herself to turn back to face him, however, the only other sign she gave him that she was listening was the slight turn to her head, partially over her shoulder.

"You are not alone in this."

She remained still and quiet for a moment, then, with a distant nod, she replied:

"...I know."

With that, the young woman looked back to the corridor back to the surface, and accompanied by the echoing sloshes of her boots through the water, she made her way out.

Sabyn stood there a moment before bending at both knees, his fervent glare locked on the masked, cloaked, and shadow-shrouded man staring back up at him from the water. With a lamented sigh he gives his head a half-shake as he muttered.

"Don't f**k this up, Sabyn."

Taking a lengthy look around the cave he moved toward the exit, water rippling in his wake, scattering his reflection into shattered pieces once again.

A boy of anguish, now he's a man of stone
Traded in his misery for the lonely life of the road
The years were cruel to him, no he won't let them go
Lays awake tryina find the man inside to pack his bags and escape this world

I've never been so torn up in all of my life
I should have seen this coming
I've never felt so hopeless than I do tonight
I don't want to do this anymore
I'm moving on

He wanted to change the world, to make it all worthwhile
So he put his pen to paper and poured out everything inside
His red eyes tearing up at the man that he'd became
Slowly but surely on the fast track to falling into his grave

I've never been so torn up in all of my life
I should have seen this coming
I've never felt so hopeless than I do tonight
I don't want to do this anymore
I'm moving on

I can't believe I've come so far in such short time
And I'm still fighting on my own
If I stop to catch my breath I might never breathe again
So just know this

I've never been so torn up in all of my life
I can't believe I let myself break down

I've never been so torn up in all of my life
I should have seen this coming
I've never felt so hopeless than I do tonight
I don't want to do this anymore

I've never been so torn up in all of my life
I should have seen this coming
I've never felt so hopeless than I do tonight
Now i don't want to do this anymore
I'm moving on

A boy of anguish, now he's a man of stone
Traded in his misery for the lonely life of the road