Soul Alight

[Mari]

Closed to Shinsou - All bunnying approved
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Stein clinked against stein in celebration. The quaint wooden mess hall sprightly with rowdy cheers, jeers, and leers. A hearth roared with a large fire in the back of the room basking it in a merry warmth that rivalled the sheer cold of the outside in its extremity. Bountiful plates of food sat upon the large, centre table; headless cooked meats, piles of freshly made bread, pies, soups, and produce. 10 bandits in total were joining in the jovial festivities. Two more seemed reluctant and kept to themselves on an empty table. A modest amount of food and drink before them, they were engaged in their own, quiet conversation. Away from the rest of the gang.

By the fire sat a large, uncut boulder attached to a thick, metal chain. The chain was long enough to reach any side of the food hall. Extending into the kitchen, toward the back room. The other end of the chain was attached to Amari’s waist, wrapping around her hips and crossing over and between her breasts. A large silver padlock sat in the middle of the cross. Snapping it all tightly together. A precaution that was set in place after Fenn's escape.

The group of bandits were getting well beyond the limits of drunk. The cause for their celebration? Four new girls. Ones they would sell to slavers, or brothels. One was a virgin, and was due to head toward the Church of Etheral Sway. The others, well - the bandits were sure to have their fun with them. Two of the bandits broke free of the group, promising to bring their acquisitions to 'join' the festivities.


“C’mon pet, pour us another!”

Amari approached the bandit, and frowned. “The hell? It’s half full. Fuck off.” She turned to walk away but was grabbed roughly by the arm and pulled back till she landed on the table, belly up. The action made the crowd cheer, and the bandit poured the rest of his drink over Amari’s white blouse, grinning as it became see through. “There, now is’ empty, pour us another.” He let her go, with a slap to her ass.

“Careful, ‘er curse may get ya.” Another shouted out.

“A ol’ slap here or grab there ain’t hurt me yet.” He said with a laugh, watching as a dripping red-headed Amari walked off to top up his stein.

Amari gritted her teeth, fuming, furious. Angry that she couldn’t do anything, that she was trapped in this hell hole. That she was so close, yet so far to escape. Sure, she could use the kitchen utensils, perhaps do away with one or two of them - but they’d quickly overpower her. She was powerless and useless to stop their ridicule.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

All bunnying from hereon in approved.

The road from Knife’s Edge was an icy, desolate place that was choked by silence. The only noises were the granulated patter of snow and a cold and steadily howling northern wind, one that Shinsou felt cut through his shoulders even as he pulled his leather greatcoat around him. What remained of the dusk had been smothered completely by a sheet of thick wintry clouds, and now only the shining blade of Stygian could provide Osiris with a light, one that could not be stifled thanks to the enchantment sung into it by the high bard of Raiaera. Slepnir, the horse he acquired some weeks ago, marched on unflinching, its sharp eyes using the light to seek potential hazards.

This time his journey was for Am’aleh, the goddess of the sea that Joshua Cronen had connected him with a few months ago. Shinsou was tracking a powerful group of slavers who carried themselves with a certain brutality. A well organised and well armed gang had broken into a convent and beaten, raped and enslaved four of Am’aleh’s devout followers as recompense for the fall of the temple of Draconus on Lornius. Though Shinsou had always held that right and wrong were ambiguous depending on a person’s viewpoint, it wasn’t an altogether foreign concept to him that a form of pure, unquestionable evil existed in the world and this assault on Am’aleh’s house was as close to that as could be.

“Steady, Slepnir…” Osiris cautioned as he saw a sheet of ice ahead in the magical light, steering the reigns to signal the beast below him to circumvent the path instead. A smile spread across his face as Slepnir’s change of direction allowed him to see his destination ahead; a small, almost insignificant village that seemed to be propped up the Salvic wastes rather than built.

Money, power, women… none of them ever saturate. That’s what Storm Veritas said to me when we went to Whitevale. Perhaps he was right…this collection of pond-life will never stop unless they are forced to.

His thoughts swirled as Osiris considered his new direction in life. Doubtless, he had never been an entirely evil thing but there had been times where the Telgradian had allowed the line to be blurred to serve him some greater purpose. His meeting with the demi-god Joshua Cronen and the goddess Am’aleh had changed him for the better. Where he had walked and often crossed the line, they had never strayed from it.

But that isn’t who you are, Shinsou. As you said to Veritas, we must always have contrast to be able to have understanding, and not just have adherence to a single idea of right and wrong. Categorization is the remit of history and it is history that will decide what kind of legacy we left long after we're gone, not individual people who themselves have no right to judge.

His golden eyes narrowed behind the falling snow as he thought upon these matters. Perhaps he would be better placed to measure his own place in the world after this task.

[Mari]

Amari returned from the kitchen - her breath stilled in her throat at the scene before her. Her hands shook with a myriad of emotions. Fear, anger, and a deep seeded feeling of utter uselessness. One of the girls whom the bandits had captured earlier was being forced onto the table.

Her tiny bruised form barely struggled against the three men who held her down. Dirtied blonde hair spilled out over the wooden table across piles of scattered food. Her screams muffled by a dirtied rag in her mouth. Amari felt her blood boil. Her eyebrows furrowed, and a soft glow formed from the golden flecks that surrounded her irises. Flaring in anger and disgust. How did it shift from celebration to such...debauchery? Her grip on the two drinks she held tightened. Tiny fists shaking in rage.

Useless.

She was utterly useless to help.

No She thought to herself, finding a resolve she thought she had lost.

She stormed over toward the bandits with newfound vigour.

I refuse to be useless.

As the chained woman neared the debauchery and depravity she rose one of the heavy, liquid filled steins over her head. Liquid sloshed out, splashing her and garnering the attention of one of the bandits. "The HELL-" She slammed one stein down against a head, the bandit fell backward, dazed. Blood oozed from cuts as the heavy glass shattered against his thick skull. Amari dropped the handle. "DO YOU THINK-" She slammed the second down on another head, "YOU'RE DOING?"

Out of weapons, Amari grabbed a chair and broke it against the back of a third bandit. The girl was free, but it didn't seem to register with her. Amari, forgetting her own dire predicament picked up the tiny girl by the wrist with one hand, and pried the rag out of her mouth with the other. Amari tugged on her wrist, urging her to the door. "What are you doing? RUN!" Her voice was filled with a quickened urgency. Praying that she would snap out of it long enough to at least attempt to make a run for it.

"I'll distract them. Please. Just go."

The girl turned to Amari, blue eyes widening in shock. "Y-yes!" her high voice stuttered, and cracked. Signs of abuse and dehydration. She gave Amari one last look a mixture of thanks and fear dotting vivid sapphire eyes. She turned and bolted for the door.

Thank goodness.. Amari thought to herself as she saw the last flicker of golden hair disappear out of the door and into the night. She watched with relief, but couldn't shake the deep feeling of regret in the bottom of her stomach. Twice now...she had helped captives escape, yet still she remained here. Chained. Alone. Forever stuck in this hellhole. Her bottom lip quivered. The golden haired woman had not only escaped, but she tore apart what tattered remains of hope Amari had. Inadvertently driving home the realisation that Amari would never. Ever escape.

"That's Enough outta yer, slave."

The gruff voice snapped her from her melancholy stupor.

A large burly bandit with toned arms covered in scars and burns gripped Amari by her hair. The sudden and jostling pain caused her to scream. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, she had heard these men take the poor women before, and Amari hated herself for it. She hated that she was trapped, bound in chains and locks - and wasn't able to aid the women, but now was not the time to wallow in self pity. Now? Now she was able to do something. She was able to at least attempt to offer the girl some respite. A chance to flee. "Get your FILTHY hands offa ME!" Amari cried out. All she had to do, was continue to provide a distraction.

"Yer forget yer place." She was slammed against the side of the table. Her head throbbed and splinters of ceramic plate grazed her head. Thin trickles of blood slid down her forehead and down her cheek. SLAM Her head was forced against the wooden table again. This time leaving a smear of blood. After a third time, the burly man let her go. Amari stumbled, collapsing to the ground. Clutching her head tightly. The room swam and her vision blurred. Spots danced in front of her eyes.

I'll never escape this... Her eyes glanced up, watching the scene unfold before her.

"Thom, Jack." The large man signalled to the two bandits who were quietly chatting amongst themselves. "Go after the blonde." The two exchanged glances before silently getting up and leaving the mess hall.

"As fer you." He leaned down toward Amari. "Curse be damned, ye just cost us some fun."

Amari lifted her pounding head. I will never escape this...but I will never let them win. She spat a mixture of blood, spit and mucus at the man. "Go to HELL Gabe!"

Gabe wiped the spit from his face. His lips turned down into a sneer. "Right." He seethed as he picked her up by her arm and slung her onto the table. "Who wants ter take a chance with the diseased slut?"


---

Thom and Jack walked side by side. "Yo, Jack. We actually goin' ta bring her back to that shit fest?"

Jack shook his head, offering his compatriot. His friend, and his lover a small smile. "Nay, lets find her- get her someplace warm, and just say she slipped on the ice and fell into the lake. I really don't need to smell any more foul sweaty sex crazed men tonight."

"Ah, you hurt me so. Do our nights together mean nothing?" Thom feigned a hurt tone, before his eyes fell on the girl - not too far ahead. "Aye. Let's discuss that later though."

The two approached the shivering girl, she appeared to have indeed, fallen down. Her ankle swollen, twisted. Jack took off his Jacket and wrapped it around her whilst Thom began tearing up parts of his shirt to help with her wound. The girl weakly struggled against the two, but to no avail.

"Aye, dont worry. We ain't like them. We just want ta get ya someplace warm n' safe." Thom muttered. "Gotta hand it to Amari. She's a fiesty one."

Jack chuckled, "Damn. It's why I don't touch women, they're too wild."

"Shut it."

Thom's tone was sharp, sudden. He rose, taking a defensive stance in front of Jack and the girl. "I think someone's comin'."

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

If it was possible to be drenched with the cold, Shinsou was saturated. Even for a man acclimatised to harsh conditions, the Telgradian hoped that there was some sort of respite waiting for him at his destination or else he would have travelled miles in the darkness of the Salvic wastes to be of no use to anyone. His joints ached where the freezing temperatures had penetrated his clothes, his eyes were sore from adjusting to the contrast of Stygian’s light on a background of jet black night and his face stung from the needle like hail that now fell about him in torrents.

As he continued to ride Slepnir closer to the village, Stygian’s illumination revealed the shadowy outlines of three people on the frozen path’s horizon. With every trot forward, Shinsou’s eyes focused on the small and unassuming village behind them; a rural town that bled into its surroundings, but the man couldn’t help but be distracted by what appeared to be some sort of scuffle between the triumvate of silhouettes up ahead. The buzz of chatter broke the silence as Slepnir paced itself and drew close to the group.

Drunks, I’ll bet. The Telgradian mused to himself as he finally made out the features of one of the men. Wait, hang on…

His eyes swept through the hail, across the visages of the two men and then finally down to the injured woman. At first it seemed that they were helping the girl, wrapping bandages about her damaged ankle made from their own clothes, but the lady resisted somewhat. They didn’t look drunk; instead, the two men looked genuinely concerned whilst the woman looked on with eyes full of sadness and fear. Shinsou could read situations well, but this somehow didn’t fit. The cold air across his wet clothes was an uncomfortable feeling and drove urgency into his situation – he didn’t want to be out in the cold for too much longer, but his curiosity was piqued.

“Are you ok?” The Telgradian shouted through the cacophony of the hailstorm, an arm raised to shield his face from the bombardment of hail.

“We’re fine, she just fell.” The gentleman on the left, a heavy set man with a snow-dusted goatee and a torn shirt, kept his gaze fixed down at the blonde girl in the road. “Yeah, it’s slippery as hell out here” The gentleman on the right tacked on as he wrapped his jacket about her. Even from atop Slepnir, Shinsou could see the blonde’s big, fearful eyes begging for some sort of intervention. Stygian’s light revealed bruises that told a much different story than he was getting from the men. It seemed the lies were coming in fast and furiously.

What, she slipped and smashed her face off three consecutive fists?

A frown crossed Shinsou’s face. Regardless of the obvious bullshit he was being fed, the girl looked like she needed medical attention and the Telgradian had little time to waste on distractions from the task at hand. It may not have been any of his business, but discretion always proved the better part of valor.

“Do you have a doctor in that town?” Shinsou asked, pointing ahead.

The two men looked at each other as if the Telgradian had said something absurd.

”Right, then.” The different possibilities bounced around his head as Shinsou considered his options. “Help her onto my horse. Slepnir will get her to Knife’s Edge in a couple of hours. Here…” The Telgradian took off his white greatcoat and wrapped it around the length of her trembling body.

A look of gratitude from the woman was all he could muster from her as his great steed took off back into the night. As the hail drummed down about the three of them, shielded lightly by a snow-capped tree at the side of the road, Shinsou pulled his black shirt tighter around him in a vain attempt to warm up. He glanced at each of the two men; from the frame-up, each seemed to be hiding something underneath their concerned expressions, and although their worry for the girl seemed genuine, something wasn’t right. The Telgradian suspected that the fact a girl had been beaten and appeared to have injured herself running from a town in which he just so happened to be investigating a slaving ring might not have been a co-incidence, but perhaps the two gentlemen sharing his company could provide some information that would shed some light.

“What happened?” Shinsou demanded to know, his golden eyes piercing through the darkness at the pair.

[Mari]

Jack stared back at the stranger, his golden eyes flaring with anger. It unnerved the man, the colour reminded him of Amari, and her own unabashed rage. “Aye, I suppose we owe ya that much for helpin’ the lass.” Jack conceded as the stranger demanded answers, he lifted his hand up, scratching the back of his head nonchalantly. A relaxed action with clear intentions, signifying that he meant the other no harm. Nor was he ready to fight. Clearly not buying their lies. “She’s a runner, we part o’ a bandit troupe.” He jutted his thumb out behind him. “Not 10 minutes brisk walk thatta way. Recently- tha boss bein’ getting into real shady business.”

“Jack.” Thom hissed in warning. Unappreciative of his lovers brutal honesty.

“What’s tha harm?” Jack retorted, “He ain’t gon straight up murder us.” His eyes travelled back toward the stranger. “Else he’d done it by now- See, stranger, we don’t agree with this new direction. If it weren’t for Amari, the girl would’ve-” He paused. Clearing his throat. He didn’t need to say anything further. The twisted look of disgust on their faces told it all.

Thom spoke up, “We were going ta let her go, course - she would be afraid of us. So you do have our thanks.”

A jarring elbow met Thom’s side, “Oi, Yer think Amari’s ok?” Jack hissed.

Thom’s eyebrows furrowed. “Aye, probably not. I don’ believe that disease she mutters on about fer a second. I think the boss’ll attempt somethin’ since she just lost him a lass and a right ol’ fuck.”

The two exchanged worried glances, seemingly having an unspoken conversation between the two with looks alone, a raised eyebrow, another nudge. A flare of the nostrils. Finally, after prolonged silence, Jack shifted, turning his back on the newcomer. “We’ll take yer there, but few rules. The blondes, they go free- the redhead - she should be taken home, L’Olfsden Noble. Last condition we get beddin’ and food. I don’t mind pillaging, but Thom and I, we draw the line at human trafficking. Deal?”

Shinsou studied the two before him, it didn’t seem like they were lying - if anything they were all too eager to rat out their own gang. That troubled him, but there were more concerning matters at hand. The blonde was not the only girl. “Deal.”

Jack and Thom lead him quickly through the hail harsh winds, down a winding path toward an unassuming tavern. It’s lights on, and sounds of laughter within. Nothing out of the ordinary, that was, until the two pushed open the wooden doors.

The large hall was lit with various candles and lanterns- a roaring fire in the back promised a lasting warmth within the large room. Tables and chairs which had once been neatly lined up along the centre of the room had been pushed uncerimoniously to the sides.

A large circle of men stood in the center of the room; shielding the three from the entirety of what was going on, but the sound of a whip cracking against flesh, and the pained feminine scream of Amari painted a livid picture.

“Remind me why we ‘aven’t left yet?” Jack hissed toward Thom.
Amari howled, her trembling form collapsing to the floor as Gabe cracked the ninetail whip against the bare flesh of her back, tearing the raw red skin to pieces. Scarlet blood trickled down the wounds, flowing off her back and pooling onto the wooden floor.

“Apologise.” Gabe hissed, curling the length of the whip around his fist again.

“Bite me!” Amari hissed back. Her response bought another crack of the whip down, and with an agonising cry she coughed up a mouthful of blood and bile before falling silent.

Gabe knelt down beside her, unaware that Jack and Thom had returned with a guest in tow. He pulled her up by her matted crimson hair. “Yer just don’t quiet do ya? You may ‘ave been born a noble, but yer father didn’t even want ya. None o’ my men want ya, yer trash. The quicker yer learn to be a good, submissive lil’ slave, the better.” He thrust her head down into the floor and lifted himself up, planting his boot firmly on the back of her head.

Gabe pulled out a cigar, and lit it, drawing deep of its smoke. Only now, did he feel the draft of an open door. His grey eyes glanced up at the entrance. Seeing Thom, Jack, and a stranger. His brows furrowed. He rolled the cigar to one side of his mouth and clenched his teeth.

“Close the door.”

With a click of his fingers, the men around him were armed, and at the ready.

“Why can’t you two follow a simple order? I ask yer to get the girl, and you come back with a man? We can’t fuck a man.” He paused, his eyes narrowing, “We aren’t faggots like you two.” The derogatory comment caused a ripple of laughter to course through the 15 men that surrounded Gabe.

“Explain yourselves.” He pressed his boot tighter on Amari’s head, grinning at the pained sounds.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

As Shinsou stood silently in front of the gathering of bandits, the Telgradian realized he had been led straight into the heart of his objective. The scent of it was there, a powerful, salty whiff of blood, bile and abuse that incensed the nostrils and muddled the senses. The hallmarks of the brutal group of slavers he had been tracking were all over this re-purposed village hall, and now the group of bandits in front of him moved out of formation to reveal more of the situation Osiris had walked into.

“I said, fucking explain!” As the crimson haired girl writhed and wriggled under Gabe’s heel, the man saw fit to grind the boot against her cheek, grazing it and causing fresh crimson to trickle down her face as he demanded to know what was going on. One of the other men, as if to make a point, grabbed a cat and ninetales from one of the displaced tables, paced forward and unleashed a harsh crack that rattled over the woman’s back, causing her to jerk with pain. As Jack and Thom looked at her, then each other, Shinsou stepped forward one pace. His soggy boots squelched on the wooden floorboards, and water ran in rivulets down to the edges of his face.

“You are, quite literally, the worst bandits I have ever met.”

There was a pause. Gabe looked to his men, who in turn looked at each other and back to him. The suspension of disbelief at this man’s cheek lasted a good few seconds before the gang’s leader smirked and dug his foot deeper into the slave’s face, the poor girl letting out a scream of pain that echoed through the room.

“How do you figure that then, boy?” Gabe asked, one hand on his hip as he continued his assault on Amari underfoot. His underlings were now gathered in a random group around him, the one with the cat and ninetales now binding her battered legs with the cord of the whip to stop her from moving. “And who the fuck are you?”

Shinsou pointed back towards the door. “Any bandit troupe worth their salt would picket the road at quarter-mile intervals. That way, should any law-makers wander down the path with the intention of having a little chat about your operation, you’d have a bit of notice before they knocked on your door. Were it not for these two, I could have walked straight in here unchallenged. Very sloppy indeed, which makes me wonder; am I wasting my time here? I’m starting to wonder if I’m in the wrong place.”

The Telgradian allowed his eyes to veer across the rugged, weather beaten facade of his challenger, and then the bleeding body of the slave girl at his feet. There was one thing that the Telgradian had a real problem with in life, and that was forced subjugation. A storm of anger beat at the inside of his chest at the sight of the squirming, battered form of the redhead, and monstrous waves of rage shattered white against the jagged walls of his patience.

“The people I’m tracking had an intellectual capacity above that of a boiled potato. But, even if I have wandered into the wrong place, I’m always happy to ‘balance the books’, so to speak.”

Since arriving on Althanas, Shinsou had fought for bandits, rogues and any bastard who would pay him enough gold to do their dirty work just to get by. But now the Telgradian was starting to find his footing on this new world and was starting to become more accustomed to doing the right thing. Indeed, Am’aleh and Joshua Cronen’s influence aside, even John Cromwell’s words had penetrated into his soul deep enough to have an effect.

"Victory is not strength, Shinsou, your words betray you. What do you know of the kinds of strength, hm? What do you know of the strength of a father who protects his children? What do you know of a woman who sells her body to feed her son? They have strength you cannot conceive, friend, because you call victory by a false name."

Gabe, somewhat dumbstruck by the Telgradian’s audacity but now at the end of his patience, beckoned to one of his cronies. The man stepped forward, a good six foot tall with dark hair, a scarred face and a bulky chassis, brandishing a scimitar menacingly.

“Shank him. Once you’re done with him, kill the faggots.”

The lackey drove forward, his blade scraping along the floor as he attempted to cannon its tip into Osiris’s exposed chest. Pushing forward from his right heel, Shinsou turned quickly and raised Stygian to parry the blow from the body up, spinning and effortlessly sending his charge crashing towards the southern wall. His diluted, golden eyes caught the assailant rebounding off the brickwork with a planted foot from the momentum, moving smoothly again for another assault, sword drawn and thrusted at breakneck speed at the Telgradian. Shinsou backpedaled as the rusty scimitar cut at him but hit nothing more than air, leaving the desperate looking bandit almost red in the face from the exertion of the last few minutes.

You’re mine!

The Telgradian roared instantly back into action, grabbing the hilt of his Icemold blade Shira and guiding it expertly into a powerful upward arc as the man staggered before him. His greasy, dishevelled face snapped back violently on contact, a pitiful whimper escaping his bloodstained lips and a crop of matted black hair whipping the air about his head as the edge of Shinsou’s blade carved a jagged crevice up his chest. The man’s last moments saw Shinsou’s emotionless visage staring back at them, the Telgradian’s pale face spattered with splashes of blood from force of the attack. The body, carried by its own momentum, rolled carelessly and clattered in a bloodied mess into a table.

Gabe's fury was obvious and full as he screamed for further assistance. Six heavily armed men stepped forward from the gang hesitantly as the slave girl received another punishing kick in the midriff.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris smiled.

"What the fuck are you smiling at, boy?" Gabe rasped, jutting his heel into the redhead’s back. "You think this is funny?"

Bewilderment was a word that could only begin to explain the look that crossed Gabe’s face as Shinsou dropped Stygian and Shira to the floor again with two rapid clangs. This situation was getting utterly ridiculous. As Gabe tried to figure out what was going on, he gazed upon Osiris. He no longer saw a man, or a prisoner. Instead, a demon loomed above him, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury.

“Do you know what nemesis means?” Shinsou asked, folding his arms. “It means a righteous infliction of retribution, manifested by an appropriate agent. In this case, nemesis is personified by me. Release the girl and any others you’ve got here. If you do, I’ll let you and your men surrender to the authorities. If not, I’ll re-decorate this room a nice new shade of red called hint of corpse. Your choice.”

[Mari]

Two blades clanged to the floor, dangerously close to the young woman’s head. She lifted it, vaguely aware of the blood pooling around her. Of Jack, who was trying to help her up. Of the man who lay dead atop a table, and another dead by Thom's feet. Amari gripped the stranger by his pants with a pale, shaking hand. This had to stop. The violence ached. It caused her a pain different to the physical pain that tore at her physical body. It felt deeper than that, it almost burned her existence. “Please…” Her voice so low, barely above a whisper. Using his clothes to steady herself, she slowly pushed herself to her knees.

“Amari, stop - yer bleedin’ too much.”

She ignored Jack’s words. Slowly pulling herself up to a standing position. Her hands gripped Shinsou’s coat. Where Gabe saw a towering demon, Amari saw a man. Lost in a sea of blood. “Please...no more…” She begged, brilliant jade eyes with golden filaments stared pleadingly into his own amber gaze. Her hands found their way to cup his cheeks. “No more death.”

“Amari! G-ah..” Jack had called out a warning to her, but he received a blow to his side. One of the bandits using a wooden club wrapped with barbed wire. A brutish weapon made to injure rather than kill. “Oi, Faggot. Ye forgot about me!” The bandit hollered.

Amari’s eyes widened - they flashed, glowing a soft yellow hue. Blood trickled from her soft lips, before she choked. Spraying the mans face with another crimson splatter before her arms drooped and she fell to the floor in a heap. A small dagger protruding from her shoulder blade.

“How I hate interruptions.” Gabe spat at the girl. He turned his eyes back toward Shinsou. The man single handedly killed one of his strongest men in naught but one blow. Jack and Thom had taken out a considerable chunk themselves. “Ow about we keep the redhead. She ain’t much use to anyone, and you take the other three girls we got out back. Call it a day, aye?”

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The urge to wipe out this scum, whether he was in the correct place or not, had grown from a seed in Shinsou’s mind from the moment he had walked in and had blossomed into a tree of righteous fury. They were slavers, regardless of which ones they were. They were just one more nest of vermin to raze. Now though, inexplicably, he met resistance to the killing not just from Gabe’s cowardice but also the begging slave girl underfoot. To have an opportunity for his retribution to be extinguished so quickly was depressing, but it was even more frustrating that the girl who had taken so much punishment refused to allow justice to be served in its most severe form. The question that continued to ring around his head was why.

The Telgradian stood silently as he pondered his next course of action. His eyes glared at Gabe, at the slave girl, at his two accomplices and at the gathered bandits who were too scared to move. The prospect of killing them all, regardless, seemed completely justified given the horrendous nature of their business and the repeated torture the girl had suffered. She couldn’t have been in her right mind with all of the pain she had endured, and the possibility she wasn’t mentally capable of rational decision making crossed his mind. With a sneer, Shinsou slashed a hand through the air and summoned several lances of dark matter. They materialised with an electrical crackle and hung in the air just in front of Osiris, waiting for a command.

“Why should I accept such a proposal when I could just as easily obliterate you all and take all of the girls?” Shinsou questioned. As the Telgradian had gathered magic behind him, Gabe moved closer. A grunt came from the bandit leader, who looked down his fat, scarlet nose and spoke with a raspy voice.

“You’ll make a murderer of yourself to save the girls?” He taunted. “That makes you better than us?”

Shinsou felt his heart race at that comment, his anger building.

“Not raping and beating five innocent women makes me better than you. As for me being a murderer, you’re a little too late for that. I’ve done my fair share of killing and, for that, I carry my sins on my back as recompense. These girls need their freedom and the only way out without anyone getting killed here is for you to unconditionally release them into my care. You’ll also let the two men behind me go.”

On cue, Shinsou knew he could unleash a fury of dark magic upon the bandits. It would start with a mighty black storm of spears blasting the gathering at an impossible velocity and with deadly accuracy. It would finish with the annihilation of the slavers.

Osiris was braced for conflict.

Gabe’s lips curled back in a sneer as he extended his right hand before him, gesturing for the man to wait as his eyes pierced the Telgradian. He held the expression for a few moments as the sweet smell of sweat, blood and sex wafted about his den. There was another pause as Gabe once again looked to his remaining men, who in turn looked at each other and back to him once more. The tension lasted a good few seconds before the gang’s leader smirked and dug his foot deeper into the slave’s face.

His answer burned in Shinsou’s ear. Gabe knew he had no choice.

“Deal.”

[Mari]

Amari’s body fell limp as she was gingerly picked up by Shinsou. Her blood quickly stained his attire, seeping into the pristine whites of his coat. Shinsou carefully pushed strands of her hair behind her ear and out of her face. “Amari, was it?” His tone held a quiet warmth that seemed to stir the woman. If not for the briefest of moments.

Amari’s eyes fluttered. A dim amber glow leaked from her lids as she glanced up at him. Their eyes locked momentarily before the man quickly pulled his own amber eyes away.

Amari was confused at the use of her name. Who was this man? Why did he know her name? Amari closed her eyes again, pressing her head against his chest. She could feel the thrum of his heart, beating fast against his chest. “Mmhmm.”

Amari’s world went black - she was vaguely aware of voices. Concerned mumbles from Thom and Jack, the strange man who stampeded through the tavern turned bandit hideout; the muttering of Gabe. It all slowly drowned out, and all that remained was the constant beat of his heart.


2 Days Later.

Sunlight poured through the window of a small room in an inn within Knifes Edge. The room contained basic amenities. A wooden side table, a bed, a chair and a desk. The chair had been dragged next to the bed and in it, sat Shinsou. His arms crossed against his chest. Eyes closed. His chest slowly rising and falling as he dozed.

Amari winced. Her Back felt like it was on fire. She rolled over to alleviate the pressure on her back and shoulder. Last she remembered she was being punished by Gabe. She gingerly pulled the blanket up to her shoulder. To stave off the chill in the air.

…

Blanket?

Amari sat bolt upright at the realisation that she wasn’t sleeping on a pile of rags on the floor. Her bi-coloured eyes wide in alarm. She glanced around the small room. This...wasn’t the tavern. But if not there...where was she? Her eyes fell on Shinsou, who stirred. It was that man. Her brows furrowed as more memories from that night flooded back. This man came storming into the bandit hideout, he had killed someone - then...then…

Amari couldn’t remember what happened next.

She glanced down at her body. She was used to being exposed, the bandits often pulling and tugging at what little clothes they provided her. Then there was that stint in the House of Sin, which she would rather have forgotten, at least Aurelianus kept her purity intact. It was odd. To see herself neatly bandaged up from her arm and across her chest - not only that but to have a cotton shirt over her chest. Amari tugged at it curiously.

Clean clothes….when was the last time Amari had such a luxury?

“You’re awake.”
Amari jumped then winced. The jarring motion sent pain searing up her shoulder and down her back.

“Careful. You’re still healing.”

His words were soft, and kind - but Amari was suspicious. She was in a new place, with a strange man, who she last recalled was killing people. She slowly clutched at her chest at the memory. It hurt. Not just physically, but on an entirely different level. Being around death...it tugged at her core. It suffocated her.

This man was dangerous.

“Where’s Thom and Jack?” Her tone low, voice scratchy from lack of fluids. Despite her predicament her voice held a demanding note. Amari was quick to question him, she refused to look at him. She remembered those cold murderous eyes. To her, until he proved otherwise...he was just another captor.

“Safe. They’re on their way to the Brothers of Castigar’s base with the other girls. Amari, we should probably get you home soon. You’re from the L’Olfsden Nobles?”

Amari still didn’t look at him. She lowered her head. Giving it a small shake. “Father doesn’t want me. He refused to pay my ransom.” Her hands clenched the blanket, balling into small fists to stop them from shaking. It hurt. The prospect of freedom, and finally being able to return home. It didn’t seem real. “It’s been so long. Even if I did return, He’d ship me off to the Church of Ethereal Sway.”

Tiny droplets stained the sheets as tears began to fall. “I suppose. It would be nice to see brother again…” The bite in her voice from earlier had disappeared. “And surely the church would be a far safer place than those bandits.”

A small laugh rumbled through her chest. “You’re cruel...to use that tone...to promise my return home…” She didn’t believe him. How could she?

“Seven years…I haven’t dreamed of going home for seven years…”

She lifted her head, ready to shout at the man - to belittle him for giving her false hope, but her words caught in her throat. The man who stared at her was not the man that plauged her broken memory.

His eyes were lined with dark circles, nights of restless sleep. His lip downturned in concern and his eyes. His golden eyes knitted in a mixture of regret and pain. He hovered over his chair, leaning toward her as though to comfort her but he was stilled by unease.

“You’re...not lying are you?”

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The Telgradian sat for a moment in silence, wondering what to say to the girl he had carried bleeding and broken back to the inn two days ago. His eyes were heavy and tired from sleep deprivation and the constant care he had been providing for the slave. He recalled that a thorough check revealed some of her bones were broken, there were bruises all over her back and legs where she had been beaten and lacerations where she had been struck by a whip. The injuries were monstrous enough to be a threat to Amari’s life. A plate of bread, half eaten, rested on the bedside cabinet; it was all Osiris had eaten in a day as he furiously tried to keep her healthy. His own clothes were still stained a reddish brown from her blood. After a few seconds, Shinsou’s eyes surveyed Amari and tried to find a way to answer her question. The poor creature was too scared to move; doubtless the effects of weeks, perhaps even months of torture.

“You’ve suffered two broken ribs, internal bleeding, a fractured arm and multiple wounds on your back,” Osiris said softly, being careful to not speak too loudly. “You’re going to need a couple more days rest before you can be moved. I can stay with you until then, if you want.”

The thought of what would happen to her once those days were up crossed his mind. The prospect of sending her to the Church of the Ethereal Sway was unappealing at best, but seemed much better than sending her back to a father who didn’t want her. With everything she had endured, Shinsou doubted she’d be ready to be left alone anytime soon.

She’s not going to want me loitering around her too long, either. The best thing I can do for her is stay with her until she is ready to move.

Shinsou glanced down at her bandaged body and stayed by her side until the fatigue of his own sleeplnessness caught up to him.

It was then Telgradian revisited the valley of the Jal Shey lords in his dreams. Every detail was etched like a rune into his memory; the tiny flecks of glass that glistened within the beige bricks of rough sandstone that comprised the numerous Jal Shey temples and the dawn sun that hung low, pouring brilliant orange across the horizon. The sky was blood red, and the furrowed clouds were every shade from palest pink to deep crimson. A warm breeze stroked the sands away from his feet in wisps and bristled through his brown locks, disturbing them. Shinsou remembered how the wind whistled as it cut through his feral, incisor like teeth, leaving a tingling sensation in his maw. He remembered how his rough, jet black skin cracked in the morning heat, and how the razor sharp nails of his claws twinkled in the dawn light.

The Jal Shey soldiers by his side were waiting patiently. They had been expecting a Telgradian counterattack to come today. The Jal Shey seers were always right, and Shinsou knew what would come of their omen.

The first blood of the war would be split in the sands of the valley this day.

“Cavum Ira, my lord, should we inform lord Temperance of the omen?” One of the black clad Jal Shey cultists asked, standing to attention at Shinsou’s side as rigidly as any of the stone pillars that littered the gusset of the valley. He dared not take a breath out of turn in the presence of his master.

Cavum Ira. That was the name for it. That was the name for that form. That’s what they called me. Shinsou, looking in on his own dream in the third person, had forgotten much since his imprisonment in Kokushi, but now he remembered his Jal Shey namesake. It was his slave name. Just repeating the words sent a cold shiver reverberating down his spine.

Cavum Ira, the Judgment.

“No. Let them come upon us,” came the booming response in a tone so distorted it was almost ethereal to behold. “…and we will grind them into the dirt ourselves. There is no need to disturb-”

Cavum Ira’s chilling voice was cut dead by something moving in the corner of his black and gold eyes. The sound of sand sifting underfoot accompanied the anomaly. The beast shot glances to each of his cultists present, who with such precision and synchronization ceased their talking and rested their hands on the hilts of their weapons. Nero-Ky, Shinsou’s retainer, still mid-way through cleaning and stripping down his unusual sword, put a finger to his black lips and motioned for the assembled squadron to be silent, slowly reaching down and clasping his blade within his scarred hands.

Telgradia approaches. The slender, white haired commander whispered to Shinsou, who nodded in reply, cracking the bones in his hands. The form of Cavum Ira began to emit a black, horrible, stomach churning energy. His dark claws clenched around an invisible hilt of air, the basis of which would form his dark matter if so required to be called upon.

Suddenly, all went very, very quiet.

“Kill them!” Cavum Ira, “Judgment” of the Jal Shey, growled, “Saturate the sands with Telgradian blood!”

All in all, it had taken about ten seconds for the attacker to enter the small valley, charge at the Jal Shey and finish up in a crumpled, mangled heap near the steps of the Jal Shey’s main temple, but those ten seconds had passed almost in slow motion. Only now, with Cavum Ira’s cry echoing across the sands, did Nero-Ky and the rest of the men truly react. The rangers scrambled to arm themselves and then approached Cavum Ira immediately, forming a circle of defence around their commander. Cavum Ira moved in tandem with them, snaking around the fallen column he had been in front of moments ago and flicked his right hand out. Tendrils of black and purple electricity danced from his fingertips, sawing at the dawn’s air before a second flick of the wrist formed the structure of a lance of dark matter.

“There, behind the temples! They’re circling round!”

The assassins could be heard long before they came into sight. Their quick footsteps pressed heavily into the ocean of sand that blanketed every uneven surface for miles around, the crunches of their feet upon the golden grains and the pounding of their breath upon the morning air the only signs of their existence. To the un-trained ear, it was as if the patter of raindrops had reached the Jal Shey valley. To those present, it was the coming of death’s agents.

The cultists clung to the hilts of their swords tighter as the noises grew closer and closer and, collectively, anxiously awaited the first attack. Their eyes tried to follow the shadows of their assailants as they phased in and out of the standing marble columns like ghosts, but their opponents were so fleet of foot no-one could trace their movements. The growing number of audible steps, mixed with the rattling of chains, and above it all the tell-tale crackling of stone and lint as tens of men flanked the valley told the Jal Shey that they were badly outnumbered.

Suddenly, Cavum Ira picked up another sound; the familiar hollow rumbling of hooves.

“Nero-Ky, prepare the men!” Cavum Ira roared with his back turned to his commander.

“Cavalry incoming!”

Before Nero-Ky had even had a chance to respond, they were in view; the hooded men from the mouth of the valley and their outriders from the beaten gravel track into the clearing appearing in perfect formation. The ranks of black hoods, their curved, polished sabres unsheathed, ran towards the group from all angles in a nightmare sprint. The fine dust kicked up from the horses' hooves formed a cloudy trail behind the two mounted assassins charging in from behind.

“I’ll deal with the riders!” Cavum Ira bellowed, almost screaming. “Kill the skirmishers, take no prisoners and show no mercy!”

Whatever Nero-Ky had yelled in response was lost in the chaos. As he started his blurry kamikaze sprint over the dusty wasteland and across the valley carving a path between the rows of ceremonial Jal Shey temples, the smooth surface of his dark lance gleaming in the beautiful orange glow of the sun, Cavum Ira’s mind raced. He tried to calculate the possibilities open to him for killing his targets, consisting of two archers on horseback. It would not be an easy feat, of that he was sure. But whatever the method, he had to do it now. Any archer that crossed the threshold between him and the first row of temples would have free reign of the field.

All around the beast were the sounds of projectiles whizzing past his ears mixed with the battle cries of his cultists left in the clearing behind him. Ahead of him, Shinsou, in his most powerful form, could now see the maddened brown eyes of the beasts that thundered towards him, snorting and hissing clouds of white vapour into the morning air as their mounts let loose a volley of arrows that barely missed him.

I’ll send you to hell, Telgradian!

The hulking form of Cavum Ira slowed, calculating the speed and distanced required for his planned assault, and then suddenly dug his clawed heels into the floor as the lead horse threatened to career into him, pivoting on his right heel and thrusting the dark lance into the beast’s neck. As the horse let out a shrill scream, it threw its rider and collapsed to the sands along with Cavum Ira.

The other rider stormed by on his mount, too fast to intervene, and instead let loose another arrow that slammed into the dusty floor next to Cavum Ira’s arm. Grabbing the wooden shaft, the Jal Shey beast pulled it from the barren earth and turned just in time to meet the concussed, staggering form of the thrown rider standing over him with a dagger like some sort of drunken grim reaper. With a single thrust, the beast plunged the arrow head into the unprotected chest of his attacker, piercing his heart and killing him instantly.

The second black-robed assassin had already dismounted, but as he approached Cavum Ira was already back on his feet, snarling ferociously. Dancing upon the murky silt of the clearing with great fluidity for such a beast, the Judgment thrust his deadly claws forward and then spun at the last second, disembowelling the man easily on the backswing. Another two hooded men tried to flank him, jumping out from behind a burial mound in an attempt at an ambush.

Cavum Ira grunted, simply swooping left to right whilst anticipating the slow and clumsy motions of the men, who, like the others he had just killed, had great trouble fighting at close combat with any degree of fluency. With two strokes of his blade-like nails, he severed the head of one of the black-clad men, and then drove his entire arm into the heart of the other, who fell, choking to the ground, blood spattering upon the beast’s face with what could only be seen as satisfaction in the Jal Shey’s countenance.

As the last of the surviving assassins scrambled as fast as their feet could take them back towards the entrance of the valley, Nero-Ky approached a blood-soaked Cavum Ira. The beast was barely out of breath, smeared in the blood of his enemies, and had succeeded in driving terror into the heart of his Telgradian enemies.

Hey...

A voice echoed in his mind as the blood soaked valley of the Jal Shey lords faded to black. Gradually, the scene warped into something more familiar. Shadows danced along the cracked plaster walls of a bedroom as candles burned in oil lanterns over the doorway. The pungent smell of rising damp wafted into the Telgradian’s nose, stirring his senses in a way he would have preferred to not have experienced. As he slowly opened his eyes and adjusted his focus, Shinsou could see that the strange voice that had jarred the Telgradian from his slumber belonged to a strange face. Framed by ruffled red hair, it peered over him, over his chair, and blocked his view of the tavern’s timber beam ceiling.

“Hey, wake up! Are you ok? You were screaming!”

How many hours had passed since he had fallen asleep, the Telgradian wondered? As Shinsou sat up, only Amari’s irises stood out on first glance, a soft, caring gaze. Shinsou briefly met her eyes before glancing towards the window, thinking upon the significance of these dreams. The memory of being a slave to the Jal Shey was coursing through him again. He could feel the throbbing weight of Cavum Ira inside him, tearing at his heart. It was disturbing. In fact, it was almost maddening. He had been forced into that form. He had been beaten, controlled and forced to murder his own people. He had even been forced to enjoy it, the common decency of being revolted by his actions taken away from him by the Jal Shey.

Shinsou, at that moment, was on a level of understanding for Amari's plight that could not have ever been explained. Everything cold and instinctual about him started to come undone as soon as their eyes met again. Ordinary feelings he hadn't ever felt for himself began to take their place. Suddenly, there was some sort of clarity and Shinsou could almost read her expectant face like a book. She needed normality again and she needed to see something human in him. For that moment, at the center of the Telgradian’s vision, she stood begging for an answer.

Shinsou's reply was an embrace, one he had needed for a very long time.

"There's something I must tell you, about why I revile slavers..."