-
She didn’t even scream. If she had a moment to spare through the chaos and confusion, Skie would have been proud of herself. Instead, the blood drained from her face as the echoes of the Engine continued to churn within her and the very plains of Haidia were summoned forth from the gnarled wood plank floors.
Wanna play? Her ears were ringing with the question. It reminded her vaguely of her brother. She’d never met Talen, never seen magic like this, so close to the realm of Xem’Zund and the dead that rose in Raiaera, but she knew its flavor. There was something about people who called violence a game, birds of a feather that were more raptor than songbird.
Swallowing the spit that had flooded her mouth as her body fought against the wafting scent of crackling flesh, she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth but it did little to calm the nausea. It hurt to rebel against the need to vomit, and tears threatened to flood her vision as she backed away from the advancing child and his glowing eyes. It wasn’t the worst pain she’d ever felt. It hadn’t been too long ago that Skie had laid face first in Concordia, dismembered and left for dead but the discomfort now was just great enough to feel like agony.
Her own sword came to her hand, pulled from its oiled sheath. The reflection of the coiling smoke and glowing emblazoned flesh danced down the blade. There’d been more grease than there had any right to be in the mess of this ship, and death and fear from the crew added their own charms until the room smelled like bacon and shit.
The storm outside was closing in and the ship pitched, muffled thunder cracking through the screams. Skie’s feet widened as the rocking of the floor beneath them grew stronger. There was no reason to ask why the boy had pulled forth abominations from the ether. In Skie’s experience, evil was as evil did. She’d been rushing to Lornius for a fight, though she’d expected Seth to be by her side. She continued to move back and around. Surely if she could get to the wall, she could get to a door, and make it up to the thief.
“Stay back,” she said, and felt her words as lame and weak as a newborn calf. Stay back? Something told her that someone so young who casually pulled three horrors from the floor and exploded them with fire wasn’t going to be phased by her sword, even if it was the blade that had slain a Forgotten One once.
Through a plume of smoke, she dodged to the side as a mass came rolling out of the haze. She wasn’t sure if it had been a burnt body or one of the bone minions, but she wasn’t about to take her eyes off the too pale teenager. This was not the elegant death she’d imagined. To be fair, death rarely cared much for finesse and beauty.
Swallowing hard once more, she started to silently call upon the magic that had been so hesitant to come to her command. The once-demon girl could only hope it wouldn’t remain silent today.
-
Talen paused. Is sky blue eyes looked the woman up and down as his face betrayed a look of disappointment. Above deck fought a legend, carried upon the same ship as Talen and William in seemingly obvious nature. Perhaps it was the plateau of their trip that pushed the encounter, or just another spider thread of Lornious reaching out from the cliffs to even affect them upon the seas. It didn’t matter to Talen. Nothing mattered, nothing more than the thrill of this instant, this single moment of life caught within the greater story.
The youth lifted a hand towards the woman. She looked to the youth as though she would fall apart any minute. Perhaps, just perhaps she might come back as something more than the frail blubbering wreck that she was now. Of course, perhaps the opposite was true and this would be the final hurrah.
The wave that struck the ship was eerily timed after the thunder as if one led easily into the other. Talen didn’t bother with his footing, he would hold fast or be knocked to the side. It didn’t matter in the slightest when his prey was so close.
“Cry out. Beg. Pray to whatever impotent god you want,” snarled Talen, “Pray to the stars above or that love of yours slowly dying on the deck. Can you hear it? Hear him die?”
A flash of darkness emanated from Talen’s hand. A warning, if only a moment, of the impending attack. Dark shards burst from the youth’s palm outwards in a cone. At the centre of that was his target, the sword wielding Skie. There was no grand scheme at play from Talen’s attack, no subterfuge or secret ploys. Talen wanted to flay the flesh off this woman. Her pain would be added to his, and when it did he would be granted a moment of respite. A moment without history and without a future; a lifetime within the moment.
-
The Revenant didn't flinch under the assault. Seth looked at him process the information, before he boomed out his anger. The Demon stared down the raging possessed monstrosity before him. It spoke of anger, of rage, of wrath. It sought his demise, and threatened his livelyhood. The heat he had become accustomed to vanished, leaving him longing its embrace once more. The thin sheen of sweat on his body quickly cooling his body, even as fire seemed to erupt from his fists and feet.
William Arcus charged after flinging away his cloak unclasping it. The Demon watched impassively as the rampaging demon went after him, trying to close the gap quickly, and how quicky it was. The distance would be gone in the blink of an eye, and already the demon saw through the charade. The sudden stutter step told him what was coming and he dropped to the deck. The kick going widely over him, even as he pushed up and brought his legs about in a sweep aiming for the single leg that the Revenant posted on. He knew better than to go for the ankle that he would have, instead aiming for the knee.
He let his mouth run even as he took stock of the situation. William Arcus had owned his demons, and silenced them with that act. He hadn't flinched, he hadn't shied away from the words. Instead he had boomed out a voice, before ripping the clasp from his burlap cloak leaving it to the elements. That meant the logic blinding rage had not fully encompassed him. The stuttering step for the kick told Seth that he wanted to draw the demon into a trading of blows, only to use the superior range of his feet to close the gap. That belied cunning. He had been fluid, but a true berserker would have already been winding for a blow of some sort.
He wasn't even sure what he had said, only that no trigger words were used in it. His mouth often had a mind of its own, he had probably insulted the Mother of the Revenant. Called him Remi's lapdog, or some such shit. The point was he was not invested in what spewed forth from his mouth. Instead he developed a new idea and finally spoke, cutting off his tirade to spit out, “Life is passing you by!”
Grey light exploded from the demon as he didn't wait for the result of his attack. Instead he pointed a finger at the Revenant and unleashed the orb of grey light into William. Attack unleashed he waited to see if he had bought himself time, eyes spying a couple of ship pins. Already wheels were turning in the demon's head. He needed to get the man off balance physically to stand a chance at what he planned to do.
Seth knew wrath, he knew wrath well. Arcus wasn't venting wrath, not yet. The engine that was rumbling to life in his chest engaged into first gear, even as he felt the heat of his anger replace the heat of the Revenant. He was not going to let this asshole leave the ship without understanding just how much trouble he was in. It would be a maiming, or a grave for one of them.
Seth was willing to bet there might even be two graves.
-
As inhumanly fast as William was, Seth’s instincts were faster. Instead of tearing the thief in half, William’s titanic kick struck the forward bulkhead of Cudlitz Pride. It tore through the wall as if the bulkhead was made of paper and not reinforced hardwood, leaving a hole large enough to fit a small child through. Burning splinters shot from the hole, driven by the rising storm winds to pepper the people on the other side, effectively adding to the chaos within. But before it could register with William that he wasn’t the only one on the ship in the midst of a desperate fight, Seth’s counterstrike hit and his leg buckled.
Thunder ripped through the air as William crashed into the burning deck. The attack meant that he’d stood in one place too long and his liquid fire had ignited the deck beneath him. The fire didn't bother him, but it would definitely be a concern for the other passengers on Cudlitz Pride. Fire was particularly deadly on a ship, where there was nowhere to escape from it. And it would be even worse, with the storm tossing the ship around and making firefighting efforts that much more difficult. At least the light rain was keeping it in check for now, but that wouldn’t last if the fire got below decks.
Another wave struck the ship and bucked William across the deck and away from Seth. He growled a curse as he quickly rolled back to his feet to reengage with his opponent. In close quarters he knew that he was as good a fighter as Seth, but twice now the Lavinian had managed to outmaneuver him. William realized that his reliance on superior strength and speed was getting him nowhere, but holding back just wasn’t his style. His fighting style was function over form to the core and he wasn’t about to change it. At the very least, he hoped that Seth had burned his foot while kicking him.
He’d thought Seth foolish for not pressing his advantage while he was down, but then a gray blob of magical energy struck him. William was fast enough to dodge Seth’s magic had he seen it coming, which is doubtless why the Lavinian had waited to use it until now. William struggled against the spell as it spread over him, attempting to unravel the magic with the inky tendrils of his cursed soul before it could permeate his charred flesh. But the magic was on him too quick to put it apart and William could feel the gray weight pulling at his every movement. It was like wading through a rising tide.
This whole stupid affair was starting to really piss him off. He desperately wished he had his warscythe with him, the one which was secured safely back in his quarters at the moment. He hadn’t thought he’d need it simply to come out to watch the storm. “What in Haide is Seth even doing on a ship to Lornius?” William’s mind raged.
The realization hit him like one of the waves rolling in off the storm. Seth was as much a puppet of the corporate shadows as he was. Just as the duo in Scara Brae had been. The tumult inside the main room was likely Talen engaging with the other half of Seth’s pairing. Their meeting was a setup. They were being toyed with by higher powers.
William really hated that.
Even slowed by Seth’s hex, William was still faster than a normal person. He saw Seth’s look at the pins but he didn’t try to stop whatever the Lavinian had planned. As much as he wanted to have this fight with Seth Dahlios, as much as he wanted to settle the old score, doing so at someone else’s insistence was something he refused to do. So he wouldn’t. He was done with this fight. Let Seth fend for himself, just like the rest of them.
It only took a heartbeat for William to draw the power out of his molten core and unleash it, disintegrating a ten foot area around him in a massive magma explosion. What wasn’t simply destroyed in the blast was hurled from him with tremendous force, which included the entirety of the anchoring bow of Cudlitz Pride. Having already been weakened by the ember scars etched across the deck planks, the first sixteen feet of ship simply came off, the weight of the anchor chain dragging the wreck and any survivors swiftly under the black waters of the bay. William converted the power of his liquid fire into the hot winds which allowed him flight as the deck fell away beneath him and watched with thunderous fury as the rest of Cudlitz Pride lurched in its death throes, rocketed by the explosion back into the approach of merciless storm waves.
-
The words to her spell sprang to her mind, as garbled and broken in panic as her heartbeat. Skie pushed her will into the ball of power that she felt pressing back from the atmosphere. She imagined a barrier, a swath of holy light that would surround her and bubble her in safety. The teenager was approaching, menacing, preparing. The darkness started to rush from him, and all she imagined on her side was light.
In the end, only darkness came. No silver light spilled from her fingertips, and as the first shards hit she pulled Seth’s daggers closer to her chest, fingers digging into the leather until her nails hurt. She lifted her sword, and the sound of shards plinking against the metal and showering away couldn’t distract her from the pain. Tiny cuts raced along her skin. Her eyes closed tightly and face turned away, she shrieked.
Around her was chaos. The ship was being rent apart. Flames were catching on the walls and the thick smoke would have choked them out if it hadn’t been for the timber of the deck blasting inward and opening the mess to the outside world. The spray of water was beginning to flood inward. The black shards caught the reflection of the dim light behind storm clouds, of flashes of lightning ahead. The floor was pitching and between the pain and the movement, Skie had been thrown to the floor. She held tight to her blades, ignoring a charred form as it rolled by her.
The heat from the fires behind Talen felt odd with the freezing water that was starting to wash around her wrists and ankles, soaking into her pants. There were twenty ways to die around her, but she kept going back to what the child had said. Seth was dying just up the stairs that had turned into a small waterfall. He’d called the thief her love, and for some reason that was funny to her. He may be a lover, but a love? What a childish thing to say.
Though, he wasn’t a child. Not really.
Realization came like the thunder outside. The ship groaned and screamed. A beam fell in the background, blistered and broiling with fire and smoke. The ship was going down. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? It was time to act before she died useless and afraid.
Hefting the longsword with her arm, Skie stumbled to her feet. The boat tried its best to keep her down but somehow she found herself upright. What she faced was no child, but a monster. What hope did a mere mortal have? She’d lost her demon abilities, her damnation, and gained nothing in their stead. She only had an obligation now to be human. And as humanity did, she would fight against the depths of shadow peering at her through her fear.
With as much finesse as she could muster on the rocking floor, Skie struck with the Starslayer’s steel sword.
-
Talen sneered as his attack struck metal and flesh. It was to be expected, but the youth was annoyed none the less. The meek opponent cowered behind her blade, but denied Talen the shrieks he longed for. Even the trickle of red from the cuts across her skin didn’t bring him joy when she steeled herself from reacting. Behind the youth the shadowy abominations that he had set upon the sailors turned to dust. Their time had run out, and Talen felt his was not much longer either. They had done their job, as crew fell or fled and left Talen and Skie alone.
The sudden rending of the ship came as a shock to the normally impassive youth. The child staggered and slipped to the side, catching himself hard against the wooden wall and jerking back to a standing position. The floor was becoming uncomfortably wet, and soon the broken ship promised to mark a watery grave. The unpredictability of the hull was a concern, even to the immortal child. It threatened to take away his moment too early, before he had a chance to taste it. Upon the deck Snacks floated around the edge of the ship observing the fight. That word seemed to carry too little weight for the iron wills that clashed, Snacks observed a battle. The creature was called by Talen and obediently bound onto the deck and ducked through the gaping hole courtesy of William. She ducked and weaved, using both intentional and unintentional entrances to reach her master. Her white form shot above the watery floor and leapt up on to Talen’s shoulder. The child raised a hand to her without thinking.
Another crack of lightning and the combination of two unlikely events. The deck above Talen and Skie cracked and the support beam snapped. In the same moment the woman threw her life to fate and attacked. Darkness burst up from behind Talen as the steel sword bit deep into flesh. Talen’s arm came down from Snacks and locked the blade in place deep within his side. Both cat and child turned their eyes towards Skie with abstract interest.
This was the fate of the two Ixian Knights aboard the Cudlitz Pride. Sharpened into blades from chunks of iron, tempered with battle and cooled with victories. They had been part of something bigger than their combine numbers. They had been heroes once. Now the pair, Talen and William sought to slaughter any that stood in their way. This was the tainted legacy of Sei Orlouge. The cold blue eyes that stared at Skie dan Sabriel had watched cities burn, families turn on each other in the cannibalistic urge to survive. There was nothing of the child left anymore, just the shadow, sharpened to a knife.
Behind Talen a huge dark figure was pressed it’s back against the collapsing deck. It’s large dark muscles strained against the weight and it’s form filled the entire space behind Talen. Dark, dead eyes stared at the ground as it propped up the roof and stopped it from crushing both Talen and Skie. The youth smiled as a trickle of blood ran down his chin. The sword had cut into one of his lungs and every breath brought the crimson liquid gurgling up. Talen opened his mouth wide and more blood spilled out over his lips. He was so close to Skie he could almost taste her. The fire, the smoke and the pain, they all coursed through his senses like a delicious dessert. Smoke rose in thin tendrils out of Talen’s mouth as a spark of light flickered deep within. Flames rolled out of his mouth, cascading over each other towards Skie. At the centre of the blast was the woman’s face. The first thing Talen wanted to take from her was her sight.
-
The explosion caught Seth off guard. While it was true, he had slowed the Revenant down, what he did not account for was the possessed to have magic. Seth had heard William Arcus had some fire play. The fight had shown it, but the instant ignition of the ten foot radius about the Lavinian Demon was unheard of. The ensuing shock wave of power flung his charred body towards the lower deck. He slammed into the wall as his life exploded into pain, even as he reached a hand out towards the Revenant. A desperate claw that saw his opponent fly away, sinking the front of the ship before his eyes.
If he could have heard, he swore the Revenant was laughing.
Much like the Night of Debauchery he had done everything right. He had fought a tougher opponent, and he was supposed to win. William Arcus was strong, but Seth had his number! He knew how to beat the Revenant! Seth Dahlios didn't lose to the demonic or the berserker! This wasn't right! His hand slowly fell to the deck, bringing a fresh wave of Agony, even as he saw the front of the ship begin to go down, heading into the ocean. Seth Dahlios was going to die, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.
To think, a single punch had doomed an entire ship.
Revenant may have had control of his emotions, but this was still the temper tantrum of a child. It had all the hallmarks of one who thought violence was the ultimate determination of what was right. Seth often said that there was always better. While he knew Arcus was close, The Revenant was not his better. He would wipe the smile off the Revenant's face, and he would use the man's head as a puppet for the indignity he was suffering.
His eyes had lost focus, slipping slowly into the black, even as water washed across his face. The cool mist was a welcomed feeling against his burnt flesh even as he forced the world back into focus. The ship had not capitulated forward, the break was relatively cleaner, but the anchor was dragging the nose downward. He could see the deck before him slowly head towards the ocean, to be devoured in the sea. The heat of anger seemed to be lost for only a moment, and then he remembered what he was fighting for.
To anyone with even an inkling of magic, they could often feel the pulse of magic, especially when it came to their works. It was said it would take a great use of mana in order to be felt by another wizard outside of sight of the spell being cast. It was a simple process to draw in mana, then form it into the spell and use it. Seth himself had no concept on how Hex Magic fit into that formula, but he knew one thing. When it came to Hex Magic, all the normal rules of magic ceased to apply.
The Wrath Engine wasn't normal magic by any sense of the word. It was a pooling of Mana that would overcharge his magic to the point it became true magic. It was the equivalent of adding fuel to a campfire to watch it grow into a bonfire. Most Mages would merely light a torch and go into the darkness, Seth was making a beacon to light the path. What path he was on, none could say only that it was destructive. The Wrath Engine required potent fuel and he was using his very Soul. When he was in time with the mana generator, it was said he reaped all the mana in the area.
To say this was one of those time, was an understatement.
Hunched on the deck a hand clenched into a fist,t he pain fueling his rage as he let out an inhumane cry.
The Wrath Engine roared into motion, fully fueled as he hissed at the Revenant, a charred and battered body that hardly resembled the visage of the Lavinian Demon, “Is that the best you have Willy? Is that all you got?!” The storm seemed to quiet with the reaping of mana, even as it coalesced inside the human before William Arcus. “I'm going to gut you and have your intestines for garters you pile of shit. You think you can betray me, sell my daughter to that bitch and get away with it? I'll be ripping your head off through your ass and using it for a puppet! I'll be pushing your shit in so hard, you'll be spitting it for a week.”
Wrath had come to Lornius.
-
Chaos reigned within the bay. Several survivors had managed to kick themselves out of the ship’s sunken bow and were now frantically fighting the storm-tossed seas. Another group of crewmen had launched several of Cudlitz Pride’s lifeboats, though one of them had already flipped and foundered with half a dozen people onboard. But even though those few were likely to drown in the rising storm-surge, they were the lucky ones. Nearly two-hundred people had been aboard Cudlitz Pride when the ship had left Radasanth weeks before. William’s attack had crippled the ship so quickly that most of them would never make it off. William was no stranger to death. He ignored them all.
The only thing that held William’s attention right now was the thrashing corpse of the Cudlitz Pride itself. Water and fire speared the vessel in equal measures, but the rage churning in William’s breast was as hot and drowning as either of them. Had the puppet-masters foreseen this outcome when they’d hooked William on their line? Would they pause at all as the snuffing out of so many innocents? Was there some greater meaning behind all of this or was this just a game to them? There were so many questions that William still had; there was so little that he knew. But whoever they were, William would find them, and then the fate of Cudlitz Pride would seem tame.
A tremendous crack snatched William from his angry ruminations and forced his eyes to their source. One of the ship’s primary support beams had snapped, the uneven flooding putting too much strain for the stout timber to handle. It was the final rattle in the Cudlitz Pride’s death throes and William knew it wouldn’t be long now before the entire vessel joined the bow in the clinging depths. But something was holding the ship together, despite the weakness that William’s cursed vision could see spread throughout the keel. Something large and dark was bracing the main line. Talen, it had to be. There was no doubt in William’s mind that Talen would survive whatever conflict he was in. But if he couldn’t, William wouldn’t mourn his loss. He’d simply chalk up one more score on their foe’s tab.
The storm was getting worse, moment to moment. Icy gusts tore at the hot winds surrounding him, and though William’s power was enough to keep him aloft for the time being, it wouldn’t last much longer. Besides, he figured that he’d watched Cudlitz Pride demise for long enough. Not too long ago William would have stayed as long as possible, reveling in the wanton destruction merely for its own sake. But to his this was just an intro to the true violence to come. Enjoying his urges would have to wait until he caught his prey.
Hot currents pulled in tightly around William and he turned to fly away. The movement of his body was still frustratingly sluggish, much to his annoyance. It seemed that Seth’s hex would linger on for a while yet. Thinking on this tickled a moment of curiosity from William’s brain and he looked down to see a lone figure screaming defiantly at him from the blasted hull just above the churning waters of the bay.
Seth had survived.
“Not surprising,” William thought. “Roaches like him are always the hardest to stamp out.” Despite the derisive thoughts, William found that he was glad the thief had survived the magma explosion. Though he had made the decision not to play the puppeteer’s game, there was still a reckoning to be had between him and Seth. On another day, at another time, he and the so-called “Lavinian Demon” would meet again and would finally see which of them was better. Or Seth would perish in the dark waters off the southern coast of Lornius and the question would be answered. Either way, William was done with Seth for now. William turned and left Cudlitz Prize and all aboard her to their fates, making his way to the cliffs several hundred yards away.
-
The monstrous was all around. From the hulking darkness that kept the ship from crushing in on them, to the face of the child in front of her, Skie stood in a nightmare. The waves were swirling around her calves now, a splash of chilling water lurching up her thighs to her back now and again as they were tossed. Yet Talen was remarkably steady on his feet, and because his hold on her blade biting into his flesh kept her with him, so was she.
In the pit of her stomach, the Wrath Engine had truly come to life. She could feel the motion, and her mouth was flooded with the taste of saltwater taffy. The bad things she’d seen chaining Seth Dahlios down were at work, and for the first time since she’d seen what Seth had become she truly despaired. How had this all gone so wrong?
She thought Lornius would be an inconsequential trip away from Alerar, something she forgot about within the month. Skie hadn’t expected them to die here.
She was too busy staring into Talen’s cold gaze to notice something wasn’t right. Blood on his lips was too much of a sight so she allowed herself to peek into the endless blue. It wasn’t until the flame flashed a forewarning mere moments before it struck that she tore her eyes downward. Pain erupted, burning at her face. A lip was split instantly, but most of the agony was just beneath her brow.
Seth’s belt fell to the floor in a splash of water that did little to buffer the heavy thunk of metal against the floorboards. She released her sword as well, her hands flying to her face to shield her eyes as she stumbled back. Tripping over an arm that lay lifeless, she fell back into the bilge. A surge of water came crashing over her, and when the spray of cold wash misted her face she felt some relief from the heat.
Some strangled curse, a jumble of Drow and Common erupted from her lips when she tried to open her eyes and realized that she couldn’t see a thing. The pain was too great, though the effort caused tears to come flooding down her cheeks. For a split second, there had been a blurred image and then darkness. The only thing she could be sure of was that the fire-breathing brat may be wounded, but he certainly wasn’t about to start playing fair now.
“Coward,” she spit, hissing as she scrambled through the tide. She stumbled and tripped as she moved, but by the Thayne she’d keep moving. If she could just hold out long enough… but for what? For Seth? From the twisting, sinking feeling inside she knew that he was too far gone in his rage to be thinking of anything but blood right now, certainly not her. She’d always been the one aiming to save him, in any event.
That was a failure that would hurt, she knew, far worse than the physical pain she felt now or the fact that she was going to have to die without looking her killer in the eye.
-
A small white hand gripped the steel blade. The child’s face was impassive as he wrenched the weapon free of his side with a sickening squelch as bone and flesh relinquished their hold. The action sent a spray of blood across the ship's wall where it dripped down into the rising water and faded into the depths below and became just another drop of blood in the ocean. Talen flicked the sword behind him and it plunged into the water near the dark giant.
“You shouldn’t be running,” said Talen.
The youth lifted out of the water as if gripped by invisible strings. Talen wasn’t a slave to gravity like the mortals around him. His will, his very form defied the pull of the ground beneath him. He floated above the water towards his prey as the wound in his side slowly knitted closed. The child’s talents were many, even his name hinted as his dark assortment of skills; Talen. The youth’s pale blue eyes watched with a hint of glee as he followed behind her.
Talen lifted his hand into the air, and darkness burst forth to form his sword. The weapon’s black metal edge pointed towards Skie’s neck as Talen moved flew faster to keep up with her shambling attempted escape.
“I envy you in a way. Right now, that pain, that pure force to live. Most people would have give up by now. But you? You struggle on!” Talen lifted both arms out, gesturing to his delusional magnificence, “I’ve given you the perfect moment! Right now, those senses must be tingling! Can you hear it? The water rushing into the ship? The crack of wood as this ship breaks apart? There is one more, one more moment I can gift to you, the ecstasy of release. You’re more alive now than you have been before, and it will continue until I end it!”
Talen disappeared from sight forcing Snacks to float on it’s own. Talen appeared in front of Skie, not for some sneak attack, but rather a clean strike. He lifted the sword above his head and brought it down towards the woman’s neck without offering another word. The same strike had killed hundred, rended knights in two and silenced a dozen screams. He could see the burnt and scarred mess of her face, eyes that he thought would never see again. This was his gift to her, a moment more intense than most would ever experience. The gift of feeling from someone that had lost the ability to feel. Not since Eiskalt had Talen truly felt anything. Even the blade that had dug into his side had been numb.
