Paradise Lost

[None So Blind]

Awake, Arise, or be forever Fallen!

John Milton - Paradise Lost, Book 1, Line 330

You need a woman.

Queen's voice had once been the voice of a demon Queen, the likes of whom had yet to be seen again on Althanas. Natamrael Nito had been the keeper of a muse's voice, and her reincarnation in the form of a finch was no different. The bird's song was especially beautiful, and when she spoke within Kor's mind, he found himself calmed and far more aware than he would have like to have been. No matter how beautiful the bird's vocals were, he hated her. He hated her advice most of all.

"A leader of a Slut nation would say that sort of thing," he growled at her as they sat in a small cave in Radasanth's foothills. "That's all you ever think about, is someone to fuck."

I have found that flattery works better that vulgarity, the little bird sniffed as she settled on a rock across from the Drow man. While she despised him far more than he might ever know, she didn't like to see the way he greeted each dawn. He had a middle-finger response to life, and while she knew he would never be a kind, loving man, it was the Moontae within her that knew that each living creature wanted at least some kind of affection in their life. Maybe, she thought with relish, he'd find a woman as crazy as he was, and they'd end up killing each other. His death was both a comfort and a fear for the bird, for even as she would be relieved if his cruel thoughts no longer stalked the ether of this world, she wasn't sure what would happen to her if he did die.

"I've found you can kill two birds with one stone." he finally said, standing as much as their hovel would allow. He hitched his dark denim trousers up on one side where they had been exposing a hip bone and threatening to show even more. While his well-toned form was nice to look at, the hate that lurked behind his pumpkin orange eyes was too haunting for the rest of the work-of-art that was the man to be properly enjoyed. As he released his cascade of silver hair down his back and again went about securing it at the nape of his neck in the neat knot that the night's tossing and turning had undone, he kicked out. A flurry of pebbled rushed towards Queen and she flew out of the cave, with the crackle of falling stones behind her, riding on the tide of Kor's laughter. When his voice had died down, and he emerged into the bright sunlight that filtered through the sparse tree-cover that ringed their cave, she returned to him, settling on a branch above him.

You act like a beast. I can't think of any other man who might need a woman more than you do.

She watched as he shrugged, staring at the horizon. A flock of gulls could be seen, circling the ports that were hidden by the treeline. The sounds of sailors and birds alike had been coming to them faintly through the morning. Finally, Kor scratched his chin and nodded.

"Perhaps you're right, Queen. And I think we have spent too much time on Raiaera as it is. We will leave tonight."

Where are we going? she said, unable to contain her curiousity.

"An old Sanctuary of mine."

[None So Blind]

The moonlight reflected over the choppy ocean surface like the shards of a broken dish. On those roiling waves, stars glittered feebly in the darkness. The sky was devoid of cloud-cover, revealing every shimmering member of the celestial choir. With the waves lapping against the sides of the small dinghy, each small slap followed by the sigh of undulating swells, the panorama was poised for peace. Inside the two-man craft, only one man lay, stretched out in the cradle of the cruiser. He appeared to be sleeping, his bare feet propped upon the prow of his boat, but his breathing gave away his alertness. After a moment, his eyes opened, the ginger in them dulled by the blue light reflecting from the moon. The oars lay next to him, still wet from their earlier use. On the starboard side, a small bird perched.

It’s a beautiful night, the little bird’s voice chirruped through Kor’s mind. I can see why you’d want to enjoy it, but why did you stop rowing? Her questions only earned her a hateful glare from the Drow, and he shifted his weight so that he could pillow his head on the palms of his hands as he slid them under his hair. He never answered, only continued to stare at the stars above. Somewhere in the distance, his dark-elven ears could pick up the sounds of whale-song. That lone melody fueled the darkness, carried on the breeze, and sang the chords that his heart had been feeling so often lately. A scholar had once told him that the whale’s song was crafted from love, but all Kor could hear was the longing.

If getting to this Sanctuary of yours is so important, Queen started again, but fell silent midsentence as her unwilling companion turned his head to look at her, and the small smile that had been playing on his features fell to an annoyed frown. The small finch ruffled her jade and obsidian feathers, hopping back and forth in equal agitation. I wouldn’t have to ask so many questions if you’d just answer me, Kor. she finally said in defiance.

“To row would be futile,” he muttered, turning his face from her to look again at the skies. There was a goddess up there, he knew, that was very angry at him right now. He’d paid her once with his life for a favor, but had taken his life back. Would Orbb Elemiire come for her comeuppance anytime soon? He sighed, turning onto his side, letting thoughts of vengeful deities and lost lifetimes be carried away on the wind. For now, he had but one focus. He could see the torture on Queen’s features as his cryptic response to her was carefully dissected and autopsied in her devious little mind. He might as well put her out of her proverbial misery, he thought, and began to speak again.

"The currents of the ocean take those who need Sanctuary to it. It’s the home of the Lost and the Broken, the Unwanted Children of gods and goddesses who ceased to care long ago. When there is no one else, there is the Brotherhood.”

I’ve never heard you speak so highly of anything before. Not even Alerar. Queen said quietly in his mind. Kor closed his eyes, the frown on his face deepening. The boat jerked suddenly, a stronger current grabbing them, and Queen flew upwards, setting down on Kor’s hip as a small spray struck the starboard side. Where Queen had been perched was littered with saltwater, and a few drops dared to speckle the Drow’s face. The intrusion of the sea seemed to break the peace he had been feeling, and he sat up slowly, holding out his hand for Queen to light upon as he did. Resting his hand on his knee, he took a good look at the bird, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Beyond the strange design of the green and black feathers, the seeming olive tint to her dark beady eyes, and the way that she seemed to ooze avian perfection, he’d never really found her remarkable. Everything exotic about her he could chalk up to the fact that she had been sexual perfection in her previous lifetime. Even as a different species, he could see that, and he wondered what of Ghauntyrr’Stra Do’afin had been left in him.

Kor? His name made him blink, shaking his head.

“The Brotherhood,” he repeated, staring past her to the lifting waves. They were like the hands of the needy. He had once kept a watchful eye over Althanas’ sons and daughters who raised their own hands for a family who put to shame any blood bonds any of them had ever forged. “The Brotherhood was very important to me,” he said quietly. “Perhaps even more than Alerar. Gild Sorrain made a place for me when I was a patriot of only myself. Damon Kaosi made an ally of me when I waged war against the peoples of any and all nations. Godhand Striker made a lover of me when only hate could be found. Natalya, Seth, all of my Shadowlings, really. They made a strange sort of mother out of me, where even the fruit of my womb had called me a ghost.”

Is that what this is about? Are we returning to your Brotherhood?

“No, Queen. We will walk with silence, in the Shadows. I go Home, but it is not to see this family of mine. There is a debt I must pay, a justice that has been long without doing against…” He paused, finding his breath, where suddenly it had become hard to breathe. “There are Memories,” he started again, speaking slowly and deliberately. “That must be laid to rest.”

Beyond them, on the dark horizon, even deeper shadows loomed. The towers of Sanctuary were rising from the misty murk of the night.

[None So Blind]

As they came closer to the small island, the parapets of the fortress began to become more distinct in the fog that had settled ghostly on the top of the waters. The great wall around the city was marked now with moss and fern, overgrown with neglect. In the dim light of the coming dawn, they looked like bruises, marring what once had been beautiful and pristine. A couple of sleepy gulls watched them, and while it meant nothing to Kor, Queen huddled closer to her master. The underside of the hull began to scrape on the graveled bank, and came to a swaying stop in the shallows. Finally having arrived at his destination, Kor could not bring himself to step out of the boat so quickly. The glow he’d remembered from the streetlights was dark, no sounds of walking, running, or general life in the streets. Sanctuary had never been silent like this, even in the darkest clutches of the night. After a moment, he stood, Queen settling on his shoulder.

Is anyone here? she asked. Kor stepped from the boat into the shallow water. The gravel was slick with algae against his bare feet, the cold water soaking his pants to mid-shin. He let the current pull feebly at his legs, and began to slosh through the dark surf to the shore. The gates, wound with budding vines, opened as he approached them, swinging inwards with the groan of ages. Kor winced, sure that a full guard would be upon him now at the awful sound, but still only silence reigned. He tilted his head to the side, waiting still to hear the sound of boots slamming against the avenues but the sound never came.

He was greeted only by the streets of Sanctuary, stretching out before him, winding through the barracks and gild halls. The cobblestones were cracked and weathered, but ask he stepped upon the street, they seemed to smooth and reform before his eyes. The Living City had been sleeping long now, but it was waking. With each yard he covered along the main boulevard, the lights began to flicker to life, one by one. His pathway was lighted before him, and soon the lights began to flare much more quickly. His gaze followed the line of radiance as it traveled down the way like a serpent, and looking ahead, he saw where the lights were guiding him. A smirk lit his face as he beheld the tower, topped with the all-seeing eye. The Tower of Shadows. He knew it intimately, for it had been from his Will that it had been built. He could hear Rilynana’Urden calling to him now, whispering for its master. He knew what lay within that dark spire, and he allowed himself a light laugh.

For a while now, ever since he’d met the Earthian in Raiaera, Kor had felt his will fading away. He had been worried that he was becoming a mere puppet to life. He ate, breathed, lived, but had he truly been living lately? He was quite sure that the loneliness was only a product of intelligent conversation having been replaced by a simple nagging. His eyes regarded the finch on his shoulder, and as they came to the large fountain in the square, he paused. This fountain had been built by Godhand Striker. In it, she had punished a wayward Seth Dahlios when he had abandoned them. The prodigal son had returned, and she had not met him with open arms. Ghauntyrr’Stra had met him, instead, with blood and pain. But, thinking back, hadn’t Seth then been grateful for it? He’d thanked Ghauntyrr’Stra for the blood baptismal.

Again, he decided, would this fountain be used to purify a soul. Again, the voice came, soothing and melodious. Why had he avoided this place? So close to the Tower, he knew himself again. His feelings and thoughts were stronger than they’d been in a long time. After so long in the cell, he had freedom now. He would not let another enslave him again, he decided. His first act of this freedom, he decided, was to kill the voice that had plagued him so often lately. He wanted to kill this voice that had urged him into thinking that alone, he was weak.

His hand flew up, wrapping itself around the finch. Queen gave a squeak of surprise, and then began to struggle. Anything she might have said, have screamed, however, was lost as he leaned down, plunging his fist into the waters of the fountain. He held her there, staring at the shaking surface of the lowest bowl, waiting for the movement between his fingers to stop. Her body was warm, her heart beating furiously. He could feel her life screaming against his mind. The relationship of master and familiar had never been one he had cared for. To trust an animal as one trusted themselves seemed ludicrous to him. He had always allowed his fury and his Will to be his familiars. When the movement stopped, and the heartbeat beneath his palm faded, he let go. The dark shape of the bird did not surface. Kor waited for a moment, to see if he too would die. He had worried about that before, about killing her only to find that her life was linked to his. As he waited, his smile widened, and he once again began his trek to Rilynana’Urden.

“Death has always followed close behind you, Ghauntyrr’Stra Do’afin…” a voice said behind Kor. Kor stopped walking, tilting his head.

“Ghauntyrr’Stra is dead. Her body rests in the Tower of Shadows.” Kor said evenly, his smile never vanishing from his face.

“That changes tonight,” the voice said, a small chuckle heard in the tones of ancient wisdom. “The Sleep of the Poison Spinner will be disturbed.”

“Yes. It shall.”

“The Broken Web shall be mended, the Walk continues!”

“Now, that,” Kor said as he languidly turned in his tracks, “is where your insight is a little off.”

[None So Blind]

The woman stood, her back straight despite what her apparent age had been. Aged though she was, her beauty was still apparent. Few wrinkles marred her face, the lines only those of laughter and smiles around her mouth and eyes. Her silver hair was long, flowing down past her waist easily. Her eyes, however, were rotted away, merely dark hollows of sockets remaining. Her smile was set in a wicked grin, one that promised much but gave away nothing. It was the smile of a whore, though this woman dealt in knowledge before the flesh. Her goods were just as inviting, and often just as fleeting. They say that knowledge has power, but what is never said is that it is only powerful for the first person holding it.

“Oh?” she asked the Drow, floating to him, her body evaporating into a light mist at her feet by which she traveled. She was an antediluvian spectre, having haunted this island before any human had ever set foot on it’s soils. It was quite likely that she had never been human herself, but only chose to appear as one now.

“Do you dare dispute my Sight?” she asked, though the voice had nothing of rage in it. It was merely curiosity. Ancient though she was, she had respected Ghauntyrr’Stra, and now that her reincarnation was here, the respect continued.

“All I’m saying, old one,” Kor said with a sigh as he turned his back on her again and began to make his way to the Tower, “is that things change, sometimes faster than we can See.”

“Well said, Web Walker.” she said, following him through the streets. “Should I call Septem?”

At that, Kor paused. What would he say to the boy? What did you say to the spirit of your last life’s son? When Kor had walked Althanas as Ghauntyrr’Stra, she had killed her own children, and Septem had been one of them. But still, through death, he had stayed by his mother’s side, always respectful, always helpful. His steps along the cobbles slowed as he thought, and finally he shook his head. “No. If he comes, he will come. If he does not, I do not bring him by will.”

The rest of the trip continued in silence, until Kor was standing at the base of the Tower. The view from the top was dizzying, he knew. Crowning the spire, a huge eye, always open, revolving. The Shadows saw all. Spies and assassins, their sinister influence could not be denied. The door to the tower slid open, and he glared into the dark antechamber. The guards who had been posted there would be gone, he knew. Without fear of anyone or anything that may be laying in wait to greet him, Kor stepped forwards. The entrance grew narrower as he walked through it, forcing any invading group to enter the lobby one by one, easily taken down. When at last he did break through the great hallway, there he found his true Home. A small pool lay in the middle of the room, a mosaic just under the water showed a whirl of stars against a dark background, and the image of a beautiful Drow woman. A few of the tiles and stones were gone, leaving light pocks where only cream colored mortar served as a reminder that once something beautiful had been there. Gnarled, twisting branches wreathed the pool, dead limbs reaching like skeletal fingers. Once these shrubs had been beautiful, toxic things, always in bloom. He did not have to travel to the kitchens at the side of the lobby to know that the larders would be empty. Rilynana’Urden was as ghostly a place as the rest of Sanctuary, but it only served his purposes more.

A rumble above his head caught his attention and he looked up to see one of the spiraling staircases that crossed the upper levels begin to shift, move from one ledge to another. It was an excersize for the newer Shadowlings, to improve memory. It wouldn’t due to be late just because the stairs were moving. Everyone knew that. Such fondness came with this place, and Kor began to take the stairs two at a time in his hurry to make it up to the one room that had truly always been his. He had to stop for a breather once, remarking in his mind with a pang of annoyance that he couldn’t recall ever not being able to run up the stairs. Then again, he couldn’t recall ever having actually run up the stairs. That had been for the Shadowlings. He stopped, leaning against the wall and closed his eyes and the shadows began to creep towards him. They wrapped themselves around his body, caressing gently in the way that only they could and pulled him into the stone.

Within the partition, he heard Her.

[None So Blind]

Ba-Bump

Kor took a breath as the Shadows began to take him to the top of the spire. The darkness had completely enveloped him. He was both man and child here, then and now. All that he had ever been was wrapped like a blanket, and the shades were a second skin. He couldn’t feel the movement. He only knew himself, and the heartbeat within the walls.

Ba-Bump

He knew it was his own heart, in the body that he had once called his. The fact that body had turned cold so long ago meant nothing. He could feel her, Ghauntyrr’Stra Do’afin. She was within the walls and the shadows as he was, sleeping that special slumber that opened the door to the Desert. It was supposed to be a door that you could walk into, but never return from. He had proved that theory wrong once, why not twice? He was giddy with the knowledge of what he intended to do this night. Finally, the light came, burning his eyes and he stepped onto the ledge beside a doorway that only he had the key to. It was burned, and blackened, but not by mortal flames. It had been burned with phoenix fire, strong and dark with the shadows of death and rebirth. He placed his hand against the cool wood, and pushed with his mind, his Will, the very darkness that lived pulsing in his soul. The door swung open, and he entered what had once been his bedchambers.

Ghauntyrr’Stra had lived like a Spartan, with few possessions, almost none of them comforts. The bed was little more than a rush-filled mastress that sat on a small frame, covered with one thin blanket. Nearby was the worktable where she’d mixed her poisons, studied plants, and wrote down all she found. Journals lay open, filled with small, bold script and pressed blossoms. To the other side of the bed lay a small wardrobe, the top covered in books. It was to these tomes that Kor stalked, searching for the volume he desired. It was a thin, stocky book that he pulled, opening the cover carefully to avoid cracking the spine. The pages were crisp, but yellowing at the edges. As he flipped through them, he finally fell on one page, mostly blank except for a very small handwritten note. He smiled, and continued to flip the pages. Hindsight, he knew, was 20/20, but foresight was priceless. With the note to direct him, he opened the book to a page that seemed to be covered only in gibberish and numbers. Smiling, he flipped the book over, and began to read, the message now clear to him that the pages were upside down. It was written in Old Drow, and in riddles to boot, but the passage had so intrigued him in his last life, that he’d spent many sleepless nights translating and figuring out the cryptic verse. Elation filled him, and he turned from the dresser, the book still in hand, and walked back to the middle of the room.

Laying the book to the side, he pressed his palms to the floor and closed his eyes. The rhythm of the heartbeat he’d heard earlier came back to him in his memories, and he let his breathing, and then his own heartbeat match it. The shadows moved from the darker corners of the dim room, the lights that had flickered on when he’d entered began to dim, and before him the floor began to shift under his hands. The black stone began to shine, taking on the same glassy look of the dark ocean, rippling out from his touch. He raised his palms higher, giving room for the spell to take hold. The wind outside began to howl, the City rumbling in disagreement around the tower. Rilynana’Urden refused to give in to the demands of Santuary, though. The Shadow Tower knew it’s master, and within moments, the floor bowed upwards as a body began to slip from within the stone onto the floors.

The Tower gave it’s secrets willingly.

[None So Blind]

Ghauntyrr’Stra Do’afin had been beautiful in life. In death, she had a sort of ethereal glow that most women would have killed to have. She’d been built tall and toned, years of service in the Alerian military and even more as an active assassin giving her the sort of build reserved for works of art. Somehow she had still managed to remain feminine curves, and a way of moving that only iced air could emulate. To see her laying on the floor before him, a visage that he’d only caught passing glances of in a mirror in his last life, it did something strange to his stomach. He leaned down, laying his hand on her cheek, the sharp features of her face peaceful but somehow determined. Her dark skin was tinged with blue, her lips parted but no breath moving from between them. The stitches that held them close were loose, and before they had wavered in the breeze of her breath, but no longer. Her eyes had been closed, and her milk-white hair spread around her in a tumbled, wavy halo. She wore the tattered remains of a black tunic, the sigil of the Shadow’s All-Seeing Eye embroidered on it in onyx thread. Black on black, and yet she managed to bring out the style. Her pants had been torn from her body in the attack before her death, and the memories of those transgressions came flooding back.

She’d been beaten and raped here, in the stronghold of her Tower. No one had come. Damon had tried, true, but the elf had been too late. The damage had been done, and then to keep him from falling to the evil that had come, she’d cast the spell that had killed her. She’d called on a goddess who she’d never been completely sure really existed, and then given herself for the cause of friendship. Kor sneered, remembering the young Aegis. Friendship. It, like so much before, had turned on her in the end. Just another reminder of the weakness he’d been in the grasp of as a woman. Even as he thought it, knew it was true, he felt a pang of guilt.

With the body of what he had been before him, so beautiful in the stillness, he could hardly chastise those poor decisions. She hadn’t known, after all. She’d been led to believe that she was safe here, with allies that cared, a nation of vagabonds that would not turn against her. A saving rope that would not break. He leaned down, pressing his lips against her forehead. Her skin was ice under his touch, but he knew that would not last long. The book found its way into his hands again, and he held it open in his lap, this time pressing the cover open. The leather spine crackled, the bindings complaining against the treatment, but he cared nothing for it. He would only need this book once, and then it could disappear into the darkest of shadows for all he cared.

“The fires that burn in our hearts will not be put out. The strength of our bodies is forever. In this night, because you and I are one, come to me. In this night, because you and I are one, hear my voice. Your soul is now with me, but come up, Spirit of Memory, Spirit of Things That Were. Be heard and touched again.”

His voice was strong, the chanting even and fluid with his intent. He willed his desires into his words, and when his words died away, a chill moved through the room. The shadows churned around him, reaching out and grabbing hold of both him and the body of this woman he once was. He could feel their caress, invigorating, and was it only a trick of the darkness or did he see her breast rise and fall with life?

“Awake, arise, or be forever Fallen!” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he looked on her. Lips begun to glow with rosy health, banishing the blue, and they quivered as he heard the intake of air. The shadows began to flow now, disappearing into her nose and mouth, as if she were sucking them in. The room seemed to grow brighter as every shadow, even his own, was pulled into the corpse of the Shadow Captain. A pair of eyes fluttered open, the dark heavy lashes blinking against the idea of sight again. Their irises, once pure white, were now tinged with a spectral purple in places, tiny bruises of death against that seemed to enhance the grey flecks that had ringed the iris. She gasped, her mouth straining against the stitches, and whimpered. Her voice broke with disuse, and he could hear the triumphant keen of the Tower around them before it fell to silence. All was quiet.

Sanctuary, the Living City, held it’s breath as Ghauntyrr’Stra Do’afin returned to life.

[None So Blind]

Kor sat, apprehension and excitement conflicting as he looked onto the woman he’d just reanimated. While he’d figured out the incantation, the intent, he hadn’t quite understood just how it would work. According to the theory, which he supposed had just been proven right, a place where a person had lived was filled with their memories. In the dark night, events of the past played out amongst the shadows. The spell filled a body with those shadows, fueling the corpse with the memories of that person. For one night, the person was alive again, the organs of the body functioning perfectly, a perfect puppet played out by the shades. The woman who sat up before him wasn’t truly Ghauntyrr’Stra, he knew. Her soul had been reincarnated into him, but this was as close as it was going to get. As the woman turned to him, her eyes wide with the surprise of feeling once again, she reached for the darker Drow. Kor’s hand grabbed her wrist, and he jerked, wrenching her again to the ground. A small sound of shock escaped her, but other wise, she remained silent, regarding him with a careful, wary gaze.

“Speak out.” Kor demanded, his grip tightening on her wrist. He could see the pain flash in her eyes, but she remained silent. He growled, the sound more feral than it should have been and he jerked her arm again, using it to drag her closer. This time, she did cry out, the sound pleading and gentle. “Speak to me, Ghauntyrr’Stra. Tell me my name.” A look of confusion, and then of concentration furrowed the brow of the woman who had so recently been dead. Kor held his breath, waiting for her sweet voice to say his name. He knew she knew it. He knew it was in her heart because it was in his.

Only silence.

While her lips didn’t move with sound, she grasped onto him, pulling him to her. As she laid her head against his bare shoulder, closing those strange colorless eyes, he relaxed. It was okay that she wasn’t speaking yet, he decided. He had done it. He’d brought to life the only woman he’d ever really loved. He looked down, studying her face better now. She shook slightly, either from fear or the newness of it all he wasn’t sure, and he couldn’t help but place his hand against her cheek. His thumb dragged along her lips, tugging lightly at the stitches. As her eyes fluttered open once again, he bowed his head. Their lips met, and in that moment, the world lay perfect at his feet. Standing in one fluid motion, he pulled Ghauntyrr’Stra to her feet, letting her lean against him for support. He could hear her joints crack with the movement, her body working after having been entombed within the stone. How the Tower had kept her alive, he didn’t know, but he had been fearing he’d find her decomposing or dried up. Instead, she was as she had been when she died.

He led her to the small mattress, and they stood before it for a moment, his arms around her shoulders, her hands clasping the edge of his jeans. Her fear and uncertainty tainted the air again, and he placed a chaste kiss along her spired ear before whispering “I won’t leave you.” She relaxed, the fear receeding. A spark flared in her eyes and now again she stood as she once had. Strong and gorgeous, confident and dangerous. He could see the predator nature finding it’s way through the confusion. If only, he thought, she could also find her voice. He needed a closure only this life fueled by memory could give. He would not push her, however. Instead, he helped her to remove what was left of her shredded clothing, and he laid her down on the mattress.

She sprawled lazily on the pillowed surface, arching her back as she stretched. One hand reached out, grasping the bottom of his hem and tugged at it with a bit of aggrivation that he could see in her snarl as her upper lip began to raise at one side. Grinning, he unbuttoned the pants, letting them slide down his legs and kicked them off his feet. He stood before her, both of them staring at each other’s naked glory. Both bodies, so perfect, though Ghauntyrr’Stra’s was marred here and there with small scars against her midnight skin. The fortunes of war, he knew, and remembered the days spent soldiering within her body. Now, he thought with a wicked smirk, he would soldier within it again, a war of a far more intimate nature than between races or regions.

He fell to his knees before her, bending low to place his kisses at her breasts. As his mouth slid downward, a smile graced the woman’s face, her chin turning upwards as she cooed to him. He was her perfect lover, he knew everything that made her squirm and sigh. Kor let a low, growling chuckle move from his lips as she gasped, clawing at the cotton that covered the soft rushes of the mattress. He worshipped her, lovingly making her the altar of his attentions. In this Rite, they became like two dark gods, moving as one.

In the sacred night, she took his hand, pulled him against her and led him on.

[None So Blind]

As the night had stretched on, there had been no surrender. Both of them had given all, and taken more. As the morning arrived to a cloudy dawn, Kor laid his forehead against Ghauntyrr’Stra’s own sweating brow. As her breath came ragged and quick, he bunched her long pale locks in his fist. Their bodies grinded together with such violence, he was sure that they would fall into one another. Her eyes moved to the back of her head, her mouth open with the silent screams she’d been releasing all night. Kor’s lips found the crook of her neck and he gently bit down as he came in shuddering jerks. That was when he heard it. A low, sweet moan moved from her mouth, floating to his ears.

Gathering her in his arms, he rocked on his knees until he could pull her up. As he sat back on his haunches, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Still, they stayed connected. She pulled her upper body back, regarding him with warm, loving eyes. There, it was. He knew now that she knew him completely, somehow saw through the memories of this male spirit that had sat dormant in the back of her mind. He was as she would have been had she ever had the choice.

“Know me…” he whispered, laying her down again, slipping his waist to the side so that he was then laying beside her on the mattress. “Tell me my name.” His voice echoed in the chamber, terrible and demanding. She looked at him, their eyes meeting, and her lips formed the most amazing word he’d ever heard.

“Kor….” she said softly.

With the word spoken, his grin grew crazed, the wash back of his emotions flowing over him. His laugh started out as a gentle chuckle, and grew into something more biting, a belly laugh that starved him of air. He buried his face in her hair, still shaking with his laughter that only doubled in intensity when she began to laugh with him, a confused look on her face. The rebound reverberated around them, until the room was filled with it, and as he gasped against her, his heart felt lighter than it ever had. Regret that the morning light would take this all away filled him. As if on cue, the belled sound of birdsong came in through the high window.

Silence reigned.

Kor’s body tensed, his ears straining to pick up the song. Thoughts of Queen filled his mind, but that couldn’t be. He had killed her with his own hands, held her under the fountain’s water until he could no longer feel her heart beat. Instead, it was something more sinister than a succubus bird that couldn’t be killed. The song preceeded the dawning sun, and the desecration of this special spell. Fear struck his heart and he knew that he didn’t have much time at all. Sitting up, he grabbed the woman by the shoulders, jerking her up to meet his gaze.

“Give me purpose.” he demanded from her. Her eyes were wide, and for a moment he was sure that she didn’t understand, that he would have to try and explain before the first rays came. Instead, her lips pursed, her eyes filled with determination as she gathered her thoughts. They moved sluggish, like waking giants, as the memories were sifted and her intentions were found.

“Kill them all, Kor. Every last one who turned against me. Every last one who sat silent at the trials.”

“It’s done,” he sighed, holding her close as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He couldn’t remember ever crying before, so he shut his eyes tight against the threat.

“And Kor?” that dulcet voice added. “Bring down the Star of the Spider. I want her to die at your feet, crushed by your anger.”

He paused, leaning back to look in her face. Gone was the confusion of earlier. There was nothing of a woman just coming out of the sleep of Death, just a Drowess whose will had been iron in life. That same unflinching gaze lay in her now. He knew that this was unmistakable. Her will in life was spoken now; the memories wouldn’t lie. Now he was charged with this vengeance, and he knew that he would act as her Knight. Her will was law, and he wanted nothing but to please her, to please himself in this. Her enemies would die horrible deaths at his hands. He grinned, leaning in for one last kiss.

“So you will, so shall it be done.” he said against her lips as her smile stretched sweetly and her eyes closed for the last time. Through the open window, the clouds of the morning parted, and the shadows fled from the first light.

[None So Blind]

After he dressed her in the strange silver dragonskin outfit she’d been known to wear for stealth, he put on his own humble pants and moved to her side once more. He gathered her in his arms, closing his eyes against the image of her relaxed features, her cheeks sinking in. Her lips turned blue and he could feel the chill starting from her arms and crawling inwards to her core. The shadows of the room resumed their normal outlines, only reaching out in small dark tendrils when he passed near. He carried her to the door, through the threshold, and stood with her on the ledge. Looking down, in the dim light he could see the small gazing pool at the bottom of the lobby. The outline of the Drow woman was younger, yes, but seeing it from so high above, he could almost see Ghauntyrr’Stra’s form in it.

He shifted her in his arms, a grunt of dismay escaping him, and then he took a leap of faith and stepped off the ledge. The shadows snapped out and grabbed them, and they were still falling, but through the darkness now. He closed his eyes, leaned his head down to where her motionless brow lay against his shoulder. Her scent was crisp, a spiced and flowered autumn. He couldn’t smell Death’s touch on her yet, and he was glad for it. Instead, he inhaled the warm Night in her hair, while they fell like stardust through the darkness.

When he felt his feet hit solid ground, he let his knees buckle, following them to a terrain that wasn’t as hard as he’d been expecting. The shadows retreated, and he looked around, blinking in the light of dawn. With her face lit up with the light of the sun, she looked more ashen than before, and he stood quickly, taking in where they’d been dropped. The gates of Sanctuary were at their back, the towers rising lonely once again in the silent city, and the beach stretched out before them. He could see where his small vessel had been stowed, still rocking in the shallows where he’d left it. He waded over, ignoring the splash of freezing water up his legs, and laid her body gently in the boat. The sun on the dragonskin blinded him for a moment, but blinking, he grabbed the prow and pushed the boat into deeper waters. When he’d climbed in, he’d scarcely grabbed the oars when a current grabbed them, pulling them fast out to sea through a slice in the waves. The riptide was strange, but as he gave one last look to the island that had once been home, he knew it was only the strange nature of the Brotherhood’s hideaway. He settled in, frowning when the clouds covered the sun again, and braced himself for a miserable trip to Alerar.

It took them the better part of two days, and Kor began to be grateful of the cloud-cover when the scent of Death finally did catch them. He spent most of his time ignoring the corpse of the woman he loved, of his own body is his last life, and focused on finding the stars and sun through the clouds. Somehow, he managed to amaze himself by finding the right shoreline to land. When they stepped onto Alerian soil, he heaved a sigh of relief. His mission was nearly over, and he’d rid himself of the annoying voice that had been all too constantly in his mind since his reincarnation.

He heaved Ghauntyrr’Stra’s body over his shoulder, straining with the effort to pick up her stiffened limbs. He’d never be able to carry her has he had, and so he settled with carrying her as a sack of potatoes is carried. Moving from the shore to a small path, he walked with confidence, not bothering to glance up when he passed by a sign that proclaimed “L'anonen d'Orbb Elemmiire” lay ahead. The Flowers of the Spider Star. Thinking about it now, he sneered, but he knew how important it had been in his last life. A life spent mostly in servitude to a goddess who didn’t care, but at least had come when called. He could recognize now that Orbb Elemmiire was a dog, fulfilling the wishes of the strong, and licking her own cunt when no one was looking.

“Dos rytho'le alur taga nindol.” he muttered to the corpse as they made their way. The graveyard of the Do’afin family was still at least a mile up the road, he knew, the tombs laid into the rock that overlooked the sea. It was a stupid place for a graveyard. The weathering of the wind and water had taken more than a few Drow sarcophagi into the sea before, where they’d turned up in unexpected places. When he got there, he vowed, he’d dig her grave far from the tombs, in a place where she could sleep undisturbed. As they rounded a bend between a set of trees, Kor stopped dead in his tracks.

Before him on the path, two figures stood. One was an Alerian patrol. The young man had to have been new to the job. He kept looking nervously to his companion and then to Kor. He was a Drow boy, his silver hair dirtied with the tiniest hints of copper sprinkled throughout. His eyes were a wide, deep violet. Kor’s snarl deepened, he was just a child! What was she playing at?

That thought brought his focus to the second figure. His gaze met with clear, emerald eyes, their expression victorious and evil. His death lay in them, and in her sanguine smile. Her raven hair and porcelain skin shone out in the night, the opposite of the Drow beside her. Two black wings folded and billowed behind her as the wind stirred those long locks of shadowed hair. The thought that she had brought the patrol angered him beyond belief. How had she gotten here so quick? And how could she betray him? His own familiar, Natamrael Nito, was now urging the young dark elven soldier to approach Kor. He would figure out the how and the whys later. For now, he simply glared accusations at the succubus and gently laid Ghauntyrr’Stra’s body to the ground.

“Xun naut mumbaro jalbyr unboi, dalhar. Usstan orn elgg dos.” he said, his warning cutting the air sharper than any legendary blade ever could.

[None So Blind]

The boy seemed to heed the warning well, his shaking form refusing to move from where he stood even as the form of Natamrael pointed and whined more firmly that he should go and cut Kor down. Kor smiled wickedly as the woman's pleas were brought to him on the wind.

"He's not even armed!" she insisted. "Just take out the sword and stick it right through him! Honestly, what do they teach you in those guarding schools or wherever the hell you go through? This is basic!"

It was the same voice that he had stifled back in the old Brotherhood Sanctuary. Now on the rocky path, he gazed at her in wonder. If her body was as it was in the lifetime before he'd known her, then she must have gotten through the desert again, grasped life again. It was puzzling, for when he'd found her in the afterlife, she'd been too worried about what she left behind to go and find the next life on her own, a ghost that was trapped by her own cage of dunes and dust.

With a thought, the shadows were wrapped around him. He could see, as they closed around him with a snap, that the tendrils of darkness reached out and passed over Ghauntyrr'Stra's form as they came to him. When he appeared behind Natamrael's visage, his words weren't for the Drow child soldier. They were for the succubus, his baritone voice loud and clear. He didn't want her to miss a single inflection.

"Eyes that have seen hell don't waste their time with such a paltry retribution. You should have brought the entire army on me, girl. I expected more from you, Queen. I expected the Final End."

Turning, Natamrael laid eyes of the brightest green on him and smiled. "Hell?" she asked, her voice innocent. "I'd hardly call that hell."

Kor lunged, his dark skin gleaming as he meant to grab her neck from behind. His head was swimming with thoughts of every pain he would bring down upon her. First, he would use her frail form as a weapon against the so called patrol that she had brought here to kill him. Even as the boy looked on now, Kor could smell the rolling off of him. Fear. It was heady and delicious, and almost enough to mask the Drow man's surprise when his hand went straight through Natamrael's neck, grasping nothing but air on the other side. His balance thrown, he fell through her, twisting to see a blank look on her face, her chest heave once where his own was moving quickly through it, and then she was gone.

The illusion shattered, all that was left was Kor, a screaming cadet, and the call of an angry bird in the trees.