Dawn Through Darkness

Out of Character:

Closed to Dissinger. Bunnies preapproved. Takes place under this profile for Karuka.

Just off the coast of Dheathain, a large vessel plowed through the waves with barely a bob to acknowledge them. It was laden with commodities from all over the world to sell to the Dheath, or to trade for unique Dheath goods to sell at its next port. They were so close to Talmhaidh that the captain could almost feel the weight of extra gold in his purse, the reward of unloading his ship.

The ship's bursting cargo holds were far from the only things the captain would be glad to see offloaded. A ship as big as his had plenty of space not only for crew and cargo, but for a bevy of passengers as well. While ferrying tourists to and from their destinations paid good money, and the captain usually enjoyed having strange faces acknowledge his power as the absolute authority on board, this time around he had taken on two people who made him uneasy.

He would be more than glad to be rid of the passengers this time, if just to see the man who hid his face and the girl who accompanied him off his vessel.

The girl was on deck, he could see her red hair shining beneath him. She had spent more and more time looking toward their destination as the days had passed, watching intently though there was no land to be seen. What was so important to her to make her watch the bare seas hour after hour? What was so powerful that it drew her to a near-constant vigil? And why had it been days since last he had seen the giant of a man that had boarded with her?

~*~*~

Amber fingers tapped the rail impatiently, and bright blue eyes pierced the distance. It had been a long six days, but the journey was near its end. At last, green hills and craggy cliffs rose out of the deep, and fair winds sped the boat along on its way.

Less than an hour after she first spotted the land of Dheathain, Karuka saw the first buildings of Talmhaidh rise up from the ground. It was almost like a homecoming; the land opening its arms to receive the ship was the closest thing to Ireland the young woman would ever see again, and it was here that she hoped to seek out the answers she needed. Without those answers, she wouldn't have the strength to bear the burden that had been given her.

That burden had been a man once, with a name and an agenda, with free will. Now that man was a flesh-eating monster with a score to settle. For some reason, he had been bound to her; she was safe from his grisly appetite and had a limited amount of control over him. She was using that now to keep him confined to quarters.

Despite the fact she'd made sure he had fed before they ever left Radasanth, it had only been a couple of days into the journey that she'd noticed him eying other passengers like slabs of meat. While there were several dozen people on the ship who did not comprise part of the essential crew, anyone missing would be noticed, people would become paranoid, and eventually the killer would be caught and dumped into the sea. While that probably wouldn't kill Seth, the potential for disaster his appetite caused made it prudent for him to just keep low.

Very, very low.

But now with dock so close, it was time to return to the room, feed her baby phoenix, pack her bags, and tell Seth that they were about ready to disembark.

~*~*~

The late-afternoon sun bathed Talmhaidh in light and warmth, and Karuka breathed in the rich scent of land as she stepped foot on the ramp. While traveling by boat no longer frightened her, she liked having solid ground under her feet, and there was no relief quite like purifying her lungs of the salt that cloyed the sea air, that infiltrated every breath and created a thin crust on anything exposed to it in a matter of hours.

She held her baby phoenix, Taodoine, on her forearm, letting the warm little ball of fluff get a good view of the new land. When he'd first hatched, he'd been small enough to fit in the palms of her hands, but a mere week later the red and gold chick required an entire arm to cradle him. His bright blue eyes looked at the strange land with curiosity, but not fear; he was secure where he was nestled, safe from harm.

At Karuka's side, but still as far away from her firey little pet as he could get was the ghoul, who fidgeted impatiently while they ambled down the gangplank. Near starvation, each moment that kept him away from his prey was an age too long.

When they finally reached ground, Seth started to break away from his keeper, eager to hunt, but a strong, slender hand grabbed hold of his cloak with a speed her humanity belied, holding firmly. When he turned to her, mild annoyance outlined on the visible lower half of his face, Karuka looked up at the much taller man.

"Be careful, Seth."

That was all she said before releasing him. If they hadn't been surrounded by a crowd of passengers, jostling to disembark, she'd have been more specific - don't be seen, don't take an innocent life - but she didn't have the luxury of privacy to direct the ghoul whose handler she'd been made. She could only hope he'd be judicious when he selected his target.

The long voyage was more than enough to try the Ghoul's patience. Each day seemed to scream to the Lavinian Demon his desire to eat. Even after three days the quiet whispers had begun, urging him to feed, that he had waited too long. Obviously his red headed companion noticed this, because much to his irritation she had ordered him into the cabin they had been assigned, and refused to let him out.

Spending a week with the phoenix was in and of itself a trying situation. Knowing that if he made thing feel threatened it would kill him made every situation near it tense, added with the cabin fever and Seth was nearly insane by trip's end. He had taken to cleaning Ebony and Ivory each day, repeatedly, but even that got old after the seventh time. He doubted he had ever cared for the blades in life as much as he had that week.

When the two of them had gotten off, he moved immediately to find himself some prey, but not before she had warned him against rash action. He froze momentarily looking into her cerulean blue eyes and snorted in derision, "I could say the same of you. It won't do me much good, but I could."

Before she could reply to his sarcastic comment he had stepped off into the crowd, soon becoming lost. It didn't take much Draconians were a taller breed, and so Seth's enlarged frame benefited him when it came to not sticking out. He prowled the streets a feral glint, searching for prey. He spotted a trio of three Draconians pushing around a human boy, and a sadistic grin slashed his face.

Perfect...

~*~

"I am a creature born of your malice. Today, you have begun a cycle that will slowly choke and strangle that poor girl. She will continue forward, distressed over you and your condition, and you will slowly continue to corrupt her. One day, you will wake up, and have realized you killed her, and put a creature like me in her place..." She spoke, and then sent the Lavinian sprawling with a harsh kick. The Avatar dusted her robes and adjusted them back into position, revealing nothing. Then with a quick prayer the fabrics and wounds mended, wiping away all traces of what Seth had done to the bitch.

A punch sailed through the air, connecting solidly with the scaled jaw of a Draconian. The man spun from the force of the blow, and the crunch of his jaw echoed through the small alleyway. The victim of the devastating hit groaned in agony, sprawled on the ground in defeat. But the Demon drove a rather tattered boot into his ribs, giving him no reprieve.

"One day, you will wake up, and have realized you killed her, and put a creature like me in her place..."

The man tried to cry out in pain, only to gasp short of breath by the large hand that fully gripped him by the throat. His eyes bulged from the force of the grip, and he let out a squawk trying desperately to pry the hand away. The poor man was slammed bodily into a nearby wall, exacerbating his wounds. He looked up at his assailant, and tried for another gasp of air. His eyes pleaded and begged as they reached the Ghoul’s own.

He found no mercy within them.

"...you killed her..."

The words reverberated in his mind, even as he continued to beat the slowly choking Draconian to death. Each blow vented his frustration, until finally the large dragonoid man was killed. The lack of oxygen and the internal bleeding finally took their toll, long before the enraged ghoul had stopped pounding. The murderer tossed the body away almost effortlessly, his eyes slowly closing. In the darkness before him, the words only echoed louder.

He looked upon the body, feeling the hunger within him give a shout of triumph. Reaching down he began to strip the corpse of anything not edible, tearing vestigial horns and other unsavory bits off the body as he began the process of devouring it. Aside the sound of his own grunts, the Ghoul's rending and devouring of the body was met with only an eerie silence.

All the while, the words of Amiya the Corrupted haunted his mind, reminding him of his future.

~*~

A few hours later, the bones of newly devoured Draconians were deposited in the river, and the Ghoul had finished his meal. It had only taken a few minutes, but after the first he had drawn out the fights, taking his frustrations out on his poor unfortunate victims. Feeling better and having finally put the hat back on, he sat on the dock watching the ships go by.

"...you killed her..."

Those three days had been a mess. Spurred by Karuka's grim visions, he had rushed through Concordia Forest to try and save his love. Upon reaching the temple nestled deep in the forest, he had encountered his brother-in-law and a few members of Liliana's order of clerics. They had been kept out of the church by a rather large demon that Seth and the tawny red head helped defeat. Rushing inside to find the other Ambria sibling they were brought to a halt within by a rather gruesome scene: Amiya the Corrupted, finishing off the last of the cultists.

Seth had driven himself into a rage. Even now the thoughts of what had occurred within that temple sent jolts of fury through him. Even thinking of it wound him up, re-kindling his anger despite having brutally beaten his weekly meals. Standing up and grumbling he moved to head back into the city, his hand clenched tightly into a fist.

It had been a long week.

With Seth gone to sate his monstrous appetite, Karuka went deeper into the docks of Talmhaidh. Vendors, perched beneath brightly colored awnings, hawked a wide variety of goods from all over the world. Some sold fabrics - bolts of vlince from Concordia's weavers beside sheer Fallien linens and shimmering Akashiman silks. Some sold weapons - swords of all styles made the world over.

But some stalls stood empty. One merchant that Karuka knew by name had specialized in selling Raiaeran instruments. Another whose awning she'd sheltered under during a cloudburst once made his living selling Salvic hides. Neither was anywhere to be seen, and their once-thriving shops were crumbling.

The calamities happening half a world away were impacting honest innocents now, innocents who were far away from the grip of war.

But those shopkeepers, native refugees of wartime economy, were not the vendors Karuka had come to see. His business was much more stable, as not only was his product local...everyone had to eat.

She smelled the rich scent of roasting potatoes over the hearty aromas of fresh bread and flame-broiled meat, and a smile crossed her face. Despite the fact the business was stable, the merchant she'd come to see was old, and until that moment she hadn't been certain that he'd still be there.

The redhead picked up her pace, weaving through the crowded street to the potato cart and the Draconian who owned it. She didn't know his name; he had given her her first potato and talked with her a few years before, when she was a brash lass of seventeen. He fit her image of a grandfather so perfectly that that was just what she called him.

"Hoigh! Seanair! Cad é mar atá tú?" The elder Draconian turned his head at the call, and when he saw the slender young woman coming his face creased into a big smile.

"Beag Bladhaire! Tú dealraigh bheith go maith," he responded, calling Karuka by his pet name for her and noting her apparent good health. He nudged a stool out for her and handed her a hot potato after putting some butter, salt and pepper on it. He grinned at how carefully she took her first bite, and accepted a drink of ale out of the jug she carried.

He let her get halfway through the potato before he leaned forward to make conversation. Since this particular guest at his cart spoke Dheath, he stuck to his native tongue. Her little foreign accent made it amusing to listen to her speak.

“So, lass, how have you fared since last I saw you? Was a good while back.”

Karu swallowed the bite in her mouth and washed it down with a swallow of the weak ale in her jug. “I’ve been…it’s been…interesting, Grandfather. Sometimes there will be months where very little happens, and then the whole world collapses all at once.” She sighed and slumped a little bit; though her joy at seeing the old Draconian again had pushed Seth and his problems momentarily into the distance, all too swiftly the responsibilities of being his “keeper” came rushing back to haunt her.

“It sounds like you’ve quite a story, lass.”

“Aye…and it’s a bad one, Grandfather. And long. But, there is one good point to it all.”

“What’s that, Little Flame?”

Karuka grinned, popped the last bite of potato into her mouth, and slung her bag from her shoulder, pulling it carefully onto her lap and opening it. From within she pulled a double handful of downy golden-red fluff. The little bird stirred, pulling its head out from beneath its wing and looking up at Karuka with its brilliant blue eyes.

“I have a little flame of my own.” She very gently set the baby in the Draconian’s giant palm, and the bird turned its attention to the blue-scaled man with an inquisitive chirp.

“You found a phoenix?” Seanair barely breathed the words; in all his years he’d never seen one of the magnificent Fallien fire birds, had never expected to, and had only heard stories of anyone actually possessing one as a companion two or three times over his long centuries of life. Of all the beasts of Althanas, they were among the most iconic and rare.

“I carried his egg around for three years without knowing what it was. Dropped it in the fire ten days ago, and out he came. He’s already twice as big as he was when he first hatched. His name is Taodoine.”

“What a magnificent beast you’ve managed to mother, Little One.” Very gently, the potato vendor held out a scrap of meat from his own lunch to feed the baby phoenix, and had to grin when the tiny ball of down swallowed it greedily. “What was the bad that has you so worried?”

Taking back her hatchling so that Seanair could continue to do business while they talked, Karuka started telling him everything, from the attack in the middle of the Radasanth night to waking up next to a pile of bones with that same attacker not only claiming he couldn’t harm her, but that he was bound to her. And then, more bewildering than even that, he had turned out to be a man she knew to be dead. Who was dead, a shadow of a man turned into a monster.

She also told about their trek into Concordia to save the ghoul’s love and mother of his child on a wild premonition of her own, of the demons found without…and within. Of the demons that haunted his torrid past…the ones that now haunted her present.

“It’s a man that murdered his own family, Grandfather. I don’t know why…but how can someone…how…?” Karuka had been looking down at Taodoine, at the brilliant red that engulfed his head and trailed down his back and the gold of his breast and belly, but now she turned her eyes back to the ancient Draconian. The lost, desperate expression on her face pulled at his heart strings, and he reached over to put a hand on top of her head, as though she were a small child he was teaching a lesson.

“Men are what they are, Little Flame. But they are also what they were, and what they are yet to be. The man you spoke to me of is a monster now because he was a monster while living. But all people, living and dead, have made mistakes over the course of their lives. They have regrets, things they wish they could do over and change. Speak with him. Find his reason, watch for his regret. If he is truly penitent, then he is a man, rather than a monster. If he is not…then perhaps it would be better if he were destroyed, before his stains become yours and he scars you irrevocably.”

He maintained eye contact with her for a moment and waited for her nod before letting her go.

Karuka put a sleeping Taodoine back in the little nest she’d made for him in her bag and leaned back on her stool. “Is there any news here, Grandfather?”

A cloud passed over his face, and he looked away from her. “There is, but I will not speak of it here. I will merely say that if you are planning on going into Fiorair…you had best not.”

“I have to! It’s…” A searing pain shot through Karuka’s head, and she doubled over, trying to brace against the pain a vision brought with it.

The jungle screamed with rage and pain, its cry lancing through all who could hear it. It called them to it, it shoved them away. Sturdy buildings cracked and snapped beneath vines and roots growing faster and more maliciously than nature had ever intended. Deeper in the jungle, far from the carnage, stood a shaman in his mystic's circle. Amber eyes glowered at the spirits which twisted under his command, a heavy hand lashed like a malevolent conductor's. His scales glowed such a dark blue they might almost have been black, subtly raising and flattening as he worked his spell.

A name screamed through the vision, under any audible sound but far too loud to miss. Then black fell like a curtain over her eyes.

The vision passed, leaving Karuka dizzy and reeling. Something was clamped down on her arm, and it was the only thing that kept her in the stool. Her breath came in ragged pants, and sweat drenched her face, dampening the wisps of hair that hung down.

“Little Flame? Little one, are you all right?” Seanair’s voice cut through the fog, too loud to her already-overwhelmed senses. It was his hand grasping her and propping her up, keeping her from crumbling to the ground.

She nodded slowly, sitting up on her own power and wiping her face with her tattered sleeves. “Gavan dar Eamon.”

His eyes widened. “How do you even know that name?”

“It’s a curse,” she muttered, brushing a loose lock back. “I have to go into Fiorair, Grandfather. And I’ll probably pass right through the area he’s currently in. If I find him,” and I WILL find him, “I will deal with him.” She couldn't stand a Shaman abusing his charge in such a way, even if she had turned from the Druidic path herself.

The Draconian shook his head adamantly. “Little Flame, you are still but a child, an infant in Draconian terms. That man is older and stronger than you, he has powers that you would NEVER be able to overcome. He is a monster, and you must remain.”

A touch of a smirk crossed Karuka’s pomegranate lips. “Grandfather, I’m not going alone. I’m bringing a monster of my own with me.”

It had taken them a little while to regroup after Seth's feeding frenzy, and when he rejoined her, the girl had immediately begun the interrogation. It was easy at first to just ignore her, but she was insistent. She kept asking the same questions over an over, trying to understand things she had no right to. It was beginning to aggravate the Lavinian's already short temper, and soon he took to responding, if only in biting comments meant to curb her enthusiasm to find out about Seth at his worst.

Yet still she persisted, even as they left the port town of Talmhaidh and headed towards the rain forests of Luthmor. During the day the questions tended to die down as the lass, long used to traveling alone, conserved her energy for the road, but as soon as she lit campfire she always resumed her interrogation.

"Tell me, Seth."

The demand hung in the air, as Seth glared at the young red head. The automatic retort issued from his lips, "I'm a monster, it’s what we do, now go to sleep."

"I need to know. I need to know because I do not understand how anyone can murder their own flesh and blood, I do not understand how someone can go about willfully destroying lives that ought be the most to him, do not understand the level of selfishness it takes to do what I know you've done, and I'm not sure I want to know about any other crimes you've committed."

“Furthermore, I need to know because I have been made your keeper, somehow or other. Very literally, I am in charge of a monster. I've been trying to be tolerant, I have tried to understand that you have certain needs...terrible needs, but suddenly the people you kill for sustenance are lives that I have held in my hand and decided to sacrifice so that one man might continue on. And it isn't a man I know very well. It isn't a man I know at all, save that we fought together once on a boat. You are my responsibility now, and it is not a responsibility I can take lightly. I need to decide what to do with you, whether it is to help you find the whatever it is you're looking for or whether it is to destroy you outright."

It was like a three year old, she kept persisting, and eventually she had worn a hole in the walls he had surrounded about the subject. It had taken her a week, but she had finally managed. His hand clenched into a fist as he thought about hitting the girl, something that certainly meant he was in a foul mood. As if responding to his murderous thoughts the chains unwrapped, and he saw the ends sink into the ground. No, there would be no strike, the chains always made sure of that. If anyone was safe from the Lavinian Demon, it was the tawny redhead before him.

She looked at him with impatient eyes, and her jaw was set firmly. She was going to make her decision tonight, and his survival depended entirely upon his answer. Seth sat down heavily, eying the fire apprehensively. The weight of his sins, of this sin, the one he was being questioned about, was a heavier burden than even his shackles. He had died to atone for some sins, why could he not let this one go?

The truth came to him in a terrifying moment of clarity: He had never accepted what he had done. He had paid lip service, but never truly acknowledged what he had done to his parents. For him to tell the tale would be to accept his actions and acknowledge how damned he had become. By owning his actions, he would bear responsibility for that day and those deeds. A gauntlet-clad hand gently ran through his hair, bringing his eyes into the light for the briefest of moments before the wide brim of his hat once more obscured them. Had he the capacity to weep, surely they would have been tear filled.

"Hex magi are weapons," he began after a moment of silence. His eyes unfocused as he spoke, seeing nothing that Karuka could possibly fathom. "We trade power for shreds of our very soul. Designed to be tools for use in the ancient demon wars, we were too little too late. What they don't tell you, what they won't tell you, is that every time you shred your soul, you invite corruption into it."

She looked at him, and he couldn't tell if she was starting her judgment, or merely waiting for him to continue. The silence hung in the air, pregnant and ready to explode and give birth to Seth's tale of damnation.

"I...fell. There is no other way to explain it. I didn't respect the power I had and I lusted for more. I wanted to destroy the world around me, for creating a need for people like my father, and for forcing me to live in a slum for most of my childhood. I seethed and raged at the world, and the magic fueled that hatred, it stoked the fires of my wrath, and left me but a bitter man in the wake of the inferno."

"About a year into my descent into madness, I found I could not hope to gain much more power. At first it meant I merely was more selective when I took spells, waiting for the most powerful I could. At other times, it meant I was looking for a way to restore my soul. One day, the solution to my problem came up to me in the Peaceful Promenade, and made me an offer I could not refuse in the state I was in."

"People always say seduction is a matter of the flesh, but I beg to differ. She wholly seduced me in my power-crazed state by offering what I lusted for more wholly than carnal pleasures. She offered to restore my soul, for the price of two others..."

"Your parents." Karuka's tone was emotionless as she absorbed the horrible truth.

Seth paused, taking a shuddering breath to try and steady himself. The death of his parents was the one wound that refused to close. The briefest of moments in the afterlife held no sense of closure on that topic either, for he was more than certain he could never find them. Still, he closed his eyes and continued his tale.

"We left by boat heading for the port of Otaria, and we made our way through that city. We weren't stopped or searched, no one dared attack. We were left uninterrupted to our dark work. At times, I broke through the surface, and I saw everything I had sown with despair. It choked me as surely as a noose, and Amiya the Corrupted was my executioner."

How deeply it had stung, to find out that he had created that monster as surely as she had broken him over the altar.

"Mother was first; I made her death swift, and I did it myself, rather than relying on the demons inside me. Amiya made a comment about her soul's taste, and I attacked in a frenzy, only to find I could not harm her, not yet anyways. Demanding that I finish the job, I waited for my father, using my mother's body as a decoy, before I fell back into depravity."

He once more ran a hand through his hair as he looked for any way to avoid the end, but he knew he couldn't stop. To not finish was a cop out, a show of weakness his pride, even as shattered as it was, could not withstand. And so he looked at the fire once more and placed the hat upon his head before he spoke one final time.

"When I woke up, they were both dead. I had no recollection of the conversation with my father, only that the deed had been done. Amiya was gone, and they were dead at my hands. Since that day I sought out death, hoping he would take me, and with that act gain penance."

Before she could even move he snorted and stood up. "As if something so vile could be forgiven so easily. What I fool I was, now if you'll excuse me, I need to recollect my thoughts...they seem to have spilled out..."

Karuka watched Seth walk away in silence. Maybe he had his past on his mind, and she could see that memories of the past weighed uneasily on him, that despite the monster he had become, he still had a conscience, he knew what was right and what was wrong, at least to a degree. At the very least, he did regret aspects of what he had done. But did that mean he was worthy of a chance at redemption?

If he wasn't, what about her? She wasn't innocent of killing, herself. For the most part, it had been in self defense, for the rest it was always in defense of others, those without the power to protect themselves from the dangers posed by the malicious, avaricious, and murderous. The times she had gone into the Citadel seeking to find release in violence had always ended, despite her best attempts, in her own temporary death. But she'd taken no joy, ever, in dealing harm to someone else.

She looked at the violets and oranges of the sunset through the smattering of leaves that the tree she was using for shelter provided. With a brisk shake of her head, she picked up a stick to encourage her campfire to burn well.

"What do you think, Taodoine?" She looked down at the little phoenix that was fluffed up quite happily by the flames. "What should we do?"

In response, he looked at her and let out a loud chirp, begging for food. The comical open mouth and waving wings made the redhead smile, and she reached over to the carcass of a rabbit she'd killed on the road, stripping a haunch of meat and feeding the little bird one little bite at a time. Between bites, while the fuzzy red and gold head bobbed up and down to swallow the meat, Karuka cleaned the rest of her kill and put it on to roast, one piece at a time, and then wrapped a potato in leaves to bake in the coals.

She'd been eating better ever since having the little bird. He needed meat, which meant she needed to hunt. Since he wasn't nearly big enough to eat anything bigger than a mouse on his own and refused to eat old or cooked meat, it meant she was getting a lot more protein into a diet that had always been almost strictly vegetarian.

Caring for the little bird was also probably Karuka's link to sanity. Caring for one life, watching it grow and bloom, couldn't ever make up for the lives she was partly responsible for destroying, but it felt more real to her, since she'd never seen one of the victims or witnessed a murder.

He said he was a weapon...but he's a weapon with a mind of his own and his own agenda. To stop him without sacrificing my life would be to kill him. But to do that would be to ensure that a little girl would never once meet her father.

The hole left by the lack of her own father had been a defining feature in Karuka's life ever since she was five. Even though she was now well and truly independent, her nomadic lifestyle was a remnant of the journey she had started just after her mother's death. She had been determined to reach India and find the man she barely remembered, but had instead been transported to Althanas. With the drive to wander, but no direction, she had been from one corner of the new world to the other. She had lost much that was important to her, and in return had only gained confusion and a few assorted items. Nothing of real worth had come into her life until Taodoine had hatched; any friends made were long gone within a week of meeting them.

She had no reason to wander, no place she had to go, no one who was expecting her, and if she died and any of her acquaintances heard of it, they would only have a brief reflection on the time they'd spent with her and maybe experience a sense of mourning. But she hadn't made any real impact on the world.

In fact, it was probable that her biggest impact would be the direct result of tonight's decision. Destroy one man and one family, or let him wreak destruction on many families, many people?

Or...

It was a long time before Seth wandered back into camp, and even though it was Karuka's long-time habit to rise and sleep with the sun, she was still sitting awake before the fire, staring into the flames while the insects sung their songs to the stars. The rabbit's bones, innards and fur had been cast into thick grass far from the camp, where predators could claim them without threatening the baby bird.

The Irish lass looked up at the ghoul when he returned, blue eyes reflecting the weight of her decision as well as her acceptance of the responsibility it entailed. She didn't give him a chance to speak before delivering her judgment.

"After I've taken care of what I need to do in Fiorair, I will help you, and hopefully that will let you get back to a peaceful rest. However, since I am responsible for every life you take, I'm not going to sit idly by and pretend nothing is happening when the lives you take might be those who deserve to live. So from now on, I will select your targets. While I don't like what is happening, if I'm sure that the world is better off without the people I let you have, I'll be able to accept it."

He stopped, looking upon the woman, even as she spoke her words. They drifted for awhile about his head, pickled themselves into the ghoul's ears, before the brain that was probably half rotted dissected them and deduced meaning. She wanted to pick his targets. More than that, she was going to help him get back to sleep.

Was that what he really wanted?

He wasn't sure, but he was more than certain she wasn't sure of what she was getting herself into. That much, he'd save her from, "Fair enough. If you're going to play caretaker, you get to choose my victims. I will not however, let you watch, no one deserves that disservice."

Karuka's mouth twitched slightly in disgust at the thought of being a witness to the grisly event, and her hands clenched into fists momentarily, but for reasons Seth could only vaguely fathom. She held the silence for a moment after his proclamation, but when she spoke her voice was hard and flat, almost harsh.

"It's bad enough that I have to know it's happening at all. But I do not wish to see you defiling a corpse and denying them their last rites."

"Then we're in agreement," he said firmly, not giving her a chance to second guess it. He sat down heavily upon the log, eying the fire with a baleful glare. He could feel the beginnings of terror claw deep within his chest at the sight of the flickering flames, and he fought to keep it down;

"Frankly, I'd rather be in Lavinya right now, or up in Berevar seeing my little girl grow up. I'd rather be anywhere than in this cesspool of a jungle looking for my knives because three idiots got the bright idea to grave rob me..."

Karuka reached out to make the fire smaller. While it would keep predators at bay while she slept (the one she was nominally responsible for included), she didn't need to risk it throwing off a spark and starting a raging inferno due to carelessness.

"I would rather be back in Ireland or even in India right now, rather than wandering this gods-forsaken world with no destination and no true friends. There are a lot of things I would prefer to...to this!" She gestured broadly, encompassing within the gesture the entire world of Althanas with its wonders and perils, as well as the past that had led her to the here and now.

"You didn't get what you would 'rather,'" she growled, blue eyes blazing and red mouth twisting into a ferocious snarl. "Neither did I. Neither does anyone else who dares live out a damned mortal life. Get used to it."

She pulled her old cloak out of her bag - the same worn, battered one she'd torn a strip from so long ago to make a bandage for him - and wrapped it around herself, a barrier against insects and cold both. She flopped down to sleep and let her little hatchling find his place tucked under her chin, and gave Seth a last look before closing her eyes to sleep.

A soft snort left his lips before he spoke softly. "There you are, took you awhile to find that shred of yourself didn't it?" It had amazed him how after a scant few years, the woman was day and night different from the fearless woman who had stood against him, despite his blood crazed state, in an effort to save prisoners aboard a ship hijacked by slavers. Still, it was far from the fire he remembered within her, much like the dwindling campfire. At one time, it had blazed within her so brightly that her little body could barely contain it, but time had smothered it to mere embers.

He didn't want to think about what she would become if those embers were not returned to the roaring inferno she once was.

The bog of Fiorair closed in on them before the next morning was out. It steamed hot and heavy, dark and damp, seething sinisterly at the invaders who dared walk within its borders. Bare brown feet gripped gray roots and probed through emerald waters, wrinkled toes slipped over rocks slick with moss, and red hair quickly plastered itself to amber skin. Taodoine, usually keen to see the world around him, huddled in Karuka’s bag, away from all the wet.

Ivys wrapped around gigantic tree trunks like lattices. Snakes wound through them, as did other reptiles and mammals that the young woman couldn’t identify even when she could get a clear look at them. Occasionally she could catch a little frog or tiny fish to sate the demands of a hungry baby, and once she had to jump and stab down with her spear to avoid having a leg taken off by a crocodilian she’d disturbed. She couldn’t tell if Seth was amused by the twitching corpse left behind by her reflexive strike or irritated at the second it took from their slog.

“You had to take us through Althanas’s biggest mosquito swarm, didn’t you?” he grumbled.

“It’s not gonna kill you any deader, now is it?” she snapped, wiping her face - damp with both condensation and perspiration - on a sleeve that was practically dripping, itself. Still, she looked around. Their hour’s march had taken them little more than a mile; without a boat it could be weeks before they reached their target.

Who knew what Gavan dar Eamon could accomplish in that time? Or if Seth, maddened by hunger, could break his shackles and go after the only meat available in arm’s reach.

“We’ll be forever at this rate,” she acknowledged, looking up. The dense fog cloaked Fiorar in a nearly-impenetrable haze. She couldn’t even see the lowest branches of the great trees they were wading around, but…

“Let’s go up. Might get better.” Without waiting for his input, she slung her spear across her back and grabbed hold of some thick vines, using strong arms and deft fingers to haul herself out of the muck and towards the distant sky.

The climb wasn’t actually bad; she found some mushrooms that might have been edible, but decided against trying, and Taodoine actually stuck his head out to snap at some of the bugs that fled his master’s wake. After only three or four minutes of climbing, she hauled herself wearily onto a branch so broad it could have comfortably borne a horse.

“Seth! It’s n-”

He was beside her before she could finish the sentence, looking at her wryly from beneath his hat. “You know, I could have carried you.”

Karuka huffed, standing up and flicking waterlogged hair out of her face while walking past the ghoul. “I’ve hands and feet of my own, and I’ll damn well use ‘em.”

There was little talk between them for the rest of the day; too much focus on not losing their way through the trees. Karuka wove herself a hammock for the night before the misty light could fade too much, and as she was finishing, she spotted a brown bird roughly the size of a quail - more than enough for a good meal for Taodoine that evening.

Lightning-fast, she grabbed a steel throwing knife, hurling it at the unsuspecting bird. It only hit a glancing blow, sending her prey skyward in a panic, to an irritated growl from one soggy, mosquito-bitten lass.

Karuka had over-extended herself in her throw, pushing too hard against the springy vines of her bedding and knocking off her aim. There was no denying the knife throw was decent; it had after all, grazed its target. However, the truth was she had failed to injure the quail and as it sailed through the air, it looked like the phoenix’s meal would escape. It didn't get far before the ghoul let Malice fly.

To throw a knife that wasn’t balanced for throwing is a tough feat, more so to hit with enough force to pin a moving target. Seth watched the hapless creature struggle to pull itself free of the knife, fluttering frantically and futilely before it lay still against the bark of the tree. The ghoul moved swiftly, grabbing the bird and snapping its neck, ending its pain. When he roughly pulled the knife he tossed the bird to the girl’s feet. “You did it wrong.”

"Another inch and I'd've had him," she snapped, grabbing the little bird and starting to rip off its feathers, sending them drifting down to the murky waters below.

“Like you'd have killed me when we first met in Radasanth, if you'd jabbed just a little more left with that toothpick?” Seth asked pointedly. The girl glowered at him for mentioning the fight that had caused the ghoul to be chained to her whims. He pressed his point home, “You aren’t ready for whatever the hell you are trying to do, but you insist on doing it. If you’re going to use those knives you could have at least asked me to teach you. If I'm good for nothing else, girl, I know how to use dagg-“

"Are you?!" Came the sharp demand. "Are you good for anything else?" She stood, rocking precariously on the thin netting that kept her from a devastating plunge into the water. "Or are you just a bottomless pit of hunger? A crazed killing machine?! What in Hel's name do I need knives for? What in Hel's name do I need with-"

“With a monster that you can’t decide if you want to even keep around or not?” Seth cut her off. The girl to her credit didn’t flinch at the blatant accusation. He looked at her evenly before he said, “Like I haven’t noticed how you glower at me and have since the Cathedral. Like I haven’t tailed you and heard you talk to your bird about me. Despite the fact I may act brutish, Karuka Tida, I am not stupid.”

"Karuka O'Sheean. My mother raised me, I need no part of my father." A final jerk of her wrist sent the last of the soft brown feathers dancing between girl and ghoul.

"Maybe you don't. But even if I can have no part of my daughter, I need to know that I haven't ruined the world for her entirely. And right now, that hope is centered on a girl with too much temper and not enough direction. So you might understand that it isn't a life I'd rather see end in this cesspool. Let me teach you some of what I know. What can it hurt to know how to use a tool you carry?"

"Pog mo thoin," she grumbled, turning and sitting gracefully on her unstable bed. The ghoul smirked grimly as she butchered the quail to feed it to her pet. She wasn't nearly as surly as he'd been at her age; he'd won this round.

Dawn broke to the clang of prevalida on mythril. Karuka might have been possessed of a foul temper, but she wasn’t actually dumb enough to turn down proper training from one of Althanas’s most preeminent dagger masters. Seth wouldn’t have let her off anyway - if he was stuck babysitting the redhead, he would make sure she was at least capable of fending for herself.

He started off easy, testing her reflexes and footing, driving her backwards one step at a time. She watched him with an unblinking, unnerving ice-blue glare - more like watching past him. She moved quickly enough, always reacting to what he was about to do, rather than what he had just done. Her footing was sure on the branch as well, bare feet never once slipping or mis-interpreting a bend or a dip. When they got to the end of one branch, she sprang backwards, lithe as a cat, to land on the next one.

The ghoul pressed forward with the attack; the few minutes he’d tried explaining things to her had yielded nothing, so he would teach her by making her make mistakes. It didn't take her long.

The girl blocked forcefully, trying to knock his arms out of the way for her own counter-attack, but she put too much into it and threw off her own balance, letting Seth slip his arms past her defenses and press Ebony and Ivory to her throat. Even though she could see it coming, she didn’t have the time or speed to bring her weapons back to bear.

“Keep your guard up, and never commit everything to an attack unless you’re more than sure you have a kill shot.”

She glowered at him and stepped back, raising her nameless silver blades to start again.

~*~*~

They stopped for a few minutes in the early afternoon, mostly to let Karuka swallow some tepid water, rub an aromatic leaf on her skin to discourage the relentlessly humming swarm of insects, and feed a small rodent to her phoenix.

Seth used the lull to reflect on the girl’s progress.

She was inexperienced with the weapons, yes, but even without his tutelage, she could hold her own with them against a common thug. Just over the course of one morning her guard was tighter - fighting at her speed and level, he could hit her weak points once for sure, twice perhaps, but she had yet to yield a third touch.

Not everyone was fortunate enough to learn from their mistakes. Not everyone was capable. Karu just might have a shot, after all.

The ghoul took the defensive position when they started moving again, letting her work him slowly backwards. Thin silver blades nipped and probed at his defenses - again, good enough for a fight with common thugs on common streets. For the kind of trouble she was insisting on heading toward…

...those daggers would end up getting her killed.

So he showed her how to use them.

Things like, “Keep your arms in! You're not that big!” "You must hate having knees, because if you keep that thing out there I'm going to put a knife in it!" Or “Stab, don’t chop; it’s not a bloody axe!” "You keep swinging like that it better be for the throat, or someone's just going to take the hit and gut you cleanly," wound from his lips over the course of the afternoon, improving her form and her timing over a few grueling hours. The ghoul wasn't capable of tiring, and although the girl’s hair was plastered to her skin thanks to the air being almost wet enough to drown in, though her blows met his counters with less force, though she had to frequently shake the stinging sweat from her eyes, though her breath came hard, she didn't relent. There she was again, that tiny little thing ready to take on a whole ship full of pirates even if it killed her.

“And finally,” he said, meaning to end the lesson, “always expect the unexpected.” With a turn of speed she couldn't hope to match, he batted her daggers aside and reached behind her, grabbing her by the back of her neck and tossing her behind him.

Karuka landed hard, scraping her leg on the smooth bark and only narrowly avoiding crushing the bag where her baby bird kept safe, though his panicked chirping spoke volumes as to how unhappy he was. For one second, maybe two, she stayed still, just breathing.

Then she looked up.

Fiorair thundered in Karuka’s blood, full of old secrets and old hates, full of fear. Full of rage. Full of a thousand thousand vengeful souls. It screamed, and that found an outlet first in the throat of a slender young woman, and then in her body.

She lunged for Seth, lashing out with unfettered fury and a pair of sharp objects, with no intention of stopping until one or the other of them was mowed down, food for the trees, the bugs, and the rats.

It was the wrath of the lost and the misbegotten, of the faithless, the friendless, the forgotten. It was a daughter whose father had abandoned her lashing out at a father who had abandoned his daughter. Would Karuka's rage one day become Samantha's?

She attacked with little regard to her own safety, raining blow after blow on the ghoul’s practiced defense, leaving him with the conundrum of how to stop her without hurting her or letting her hurt herself.

Sparks flew through the air as mythril and prevalida challenged each other, as the Lavinian blocked some of his own techniques enhanced by her sheer Celtic crazy. Seconds passed in the combat, then a minute, and then more before he finally had an opening that wasn't going to take off his hand or leave her with a broken bone.

"The things I do for you, girl," Seth muttered under this breath.

One powerful swipe exposed her arm to him, and he grabbed it, whirling her around and pulling her back into his chest, pinning her arms and pulling her off of her feet so she didn't have a stable surface to unbalance them from. It was over; any reasonable opponent would quit. The redhead wasn't going anywhere or getting in another attack.

"Don't bite me, Karu," he warned the struggling girl. "You have no idea where I've been."

Said redhead, of course, was not a reasonable opponent. Her legs tensed, her spine jerked, and the back of her head slammed into the ghoul’s nose with as much force as her slender body could manage.

First mistake, he assumed he could contain her. He learned quickly she was going to do whatever it took to get free. He let her go in order to not have his guts perforated with the sharp knives she had, though to tell the truth, she seemed far keener on slamming fists into him rather than the metal he had been training her with all day. That was fine; he actually preferred it that way, because it was less collateral damage at the end of the day. That wasn’t the problem, well; it was a problem but not the primary problem;

His second mistake was letting her go. As soon as he did to check if his nose was intact she started slamming him with punches and kicks coming at him like a wild monkey. While the pain was laughable, what wasn’t was the fact she was gripping and tearing at him, trying to grip onto anything so she could hit him harder, and in more vulnerable places. Really he wasn’t surprised at the grabbing maneuvers, just frustrated that he opened himself up to them.

Then again, he reminded himself, he was making himself vulnerable because he didn’t want to hurt her.

If this were a real fight, he’d have gutted her in the first exchange. She wouldn’t have broken his nose, nor would she even be holding blades, she’d be holding her intestines. He knew this, and reminded himself of this fact as she scrambled all over him, and began stabbing at him with the knives she finally remembered she had again. Seth growled in irritation as he tossed her form away and checked himself to see how bad the Irish lass had gotten him. Seeing a few minor cuts and a deep puncture he sighed before he heard her shriek.

He didn’t even need to see her to know where she was coming from and how the attack was happening. A simple sidestep saw the red head fly past him and crash into the branch shaking it wildly. He looked upon her as she seemed to crouch low, glowering at him while growling incoherently at him. He didn’t even bother talking to the girl as he glared back at her, showing her he wasn’t afraid of her crazy antics. It was probably the best and worst thing he could have done, best because she seemed to stop for a moment, only the merest of delays.

Worst because she was coming at him again.

A side step saw her sailing off the side of the branch, heading for the jungle floor below. With a practiced flourish a chain whipped out for the young lass’ foot as he prayed he aimed true. Almost in reaction to his desire to save the girl, the chain wrapped about the ankle holding on as she began to fall. With another growl of irritation Seth slammed his fist into the bark, hooking the other chain into the branch before he jumped off with her and began the act of swinging her, so her downward momentum was directed. As she swung around a snarl escaped the girl’s lip even as he pulled back, not letting her scramble for the tree branch and a chance to unhook from his chain. As they began to pass each other on the backswing of the ghoulish pendulum Seth ignored her furtive grasps for him as they swung back the other way.

This continued for a few moments as they slowly bled out their momentum until finally Karuka was hanging upside down chained to her protector. He looked down the chain at the girl, upside down and snarling at him as she scrambled for the chain at her leg, seeing it as a clear method to reach her victim. Every time she seemed to sit up and be ready to climb, Seth swung her about in such a way as to force her to straighten out. When she seemed to calm he finally asked; “You done?”

Snarls were quickly followed by a string of expletives. He shook his head before he spoke, “I’ll give ya a few more minutes to get your head on straight…”

If Karu couldn't fight on Seth's level, he couldn't swear on hers. What he'd figured would be a few vehement expletives in her funny not-quite Dheath tongue became long minutes of blistering abuse - abuse that always started fresh when he jerked the chain to keep her hanging upside down and away from his face. As long and hard as she went on, the ghoul figured even he would have needed a breath.

Eventually, she calmed down enough to remember that he didn't speak Dheath, so her swearing transitioned seamlessly into Tradespeak. The positive part of that was that she finally stopped trying to climb the chain. "Damn you to every damned horrible afterlife that anyone ever dreamed up, you maggot-infested, worm-riddled, twisted, murderous walking corpse! You can take these chains, shove 'em up your arse and pull 'em out your throat, you jackal-sucking son of a one-eyed vulture!"

It went on for several more minutes, each insult more stunningly abrasive and perplexing than the last. The ghoul hung across from the girl with an eyebrow raised, unsure whether he should laugh or be offended. Probably both. He'd been cussed out more times than he could count during his life, but never as long, creatively, or by someone he was hanging upside down. That she had yet to pass out from the blood all rushing to her head was nearly impressive as her tirade.

At long last, she tapered off, the steady stream of enraged and bewildering profanity replaced by panting breaths that expanded the redhead's belly and ribs nearly to bursting. When her breathing slowed and the verbal barrage didn't resume, Seth tried his question again. "Are you done?"

"Yeah. I'm done. Bastard."

The ghoul chuckled, climbing to the branch and starting to haul his exhausted charge up behind him. "Don't yell at me for making you cool off."

For a second after he set her down and released her chafed and swollen ankle from his magically-wrought chain, he thought she was about to lunge for him again. Weak and woozy calls from inside her bag demanded her attention, so instead she fished her phoenix out to tend to him. For once, fire-death bird worked in Seth's favor.

"What was the blind rage about, Karuka?"

"I'm exhausted and Fiorair is angry. Can't you hear it?"

Seth raised an eyebrow. This must be a primal thing related to the irrational rage that had turned her on him in earnest. He had seen it before, long ago, when an emaciated teenager had refused to be shackled and enslaved. When she had mouthed off to - and then bitten - a man more than twice her size. When she had mouthed off to him when he was the Lavinian Demon again, under the influence of Gift of the Magi.

The girl never lost her fire, he realized at last. She just got lost. Corone, even the forests of Concordia, had been too tame to find that burning primality. Out here, where she had senses that he didn't - senses that let the bog drum its thunderous song of wrath into her head - she was grumpy, but nearly herself.

They spent an hour in silence, an exhausted mortal grabbing at bugs to feed her bird and a hex ghoul tending to the stab wounds he'd let the girl give him. She'd laid back, Taodoine on her belly and her head on her pack; they weren't going anywhere else for the night. He hurt, she hurt, and she didn't have enough steps left in her feet to get them even to the trunk of the tree they were crossing, much less any significant distance. She was only a breath or two from sleep when her eyes snapped open and she rolled to a crouch, peering into the foggy dimness of Fiorair and setting Taodoine aside. Sky blue eyes went pale blue and a low growl sounded from her throat.

"He's here."

Seth stood at Karuka’s quiet announcement, peering futilely into the thick gray murk. Silence fell heavily on Fiorair, drowning the region in the stillness that could only precede hell. Even the ever-present cloud of biting bugs pulled back, abandoning them to the decision of who would perish and who would survive.

“Good,” slipped from the ghoul’s lips. “I’m getting hungry.”

The redhead beside him said nothing for once, face set in a stony scowl, hand gripping the shaft of her spear in spite of the hours of dagger-work the Lavinian had invested in her over the course of the day. Her eyes focused on something he couldn’t see, with all the intensity of a tiger watching its prey.

“Gavan dar Eamon dar Mahon!” Her voice shattered the stifling stillness, creating a cacophony of agitated and angry calls that boomed through the branches. “Come forward. I can see you.”

A low chuckle rippled through the branches and the fog receded, revealing a winged Draconian whose yellow eyes gazed upon the bedraggled travelers with disdainful amusement. His scales gleamed sickly blackish-green in the hazy light of dusk and he was clad with only a hide loincloth and a collection of huge claws hung from a cord about his shoulders.

He walked toward them, branches bending to find his feet and sagging under his weight, but never daring to drop him. “The spirits told me that my death was coming, in the form of an immortal warrior from an indomitable line and an unstoppable seer who can peer into the depths of my sins. Instead I find a wretched dog on a leash and a weapon of great consequence held by an insignificant child.”

Seth growled, but didn’t say anything, and Karuka planted her spear on the branch with an authoritative thunk, standing to her full height. The Draconian shaman stood more than head and shoulders taller than she. “I don’t need Truesight to see your sins. Not when you revel in them. Not when all of Fiorair SCREAMS them!”

Gavan smirked condescendingly at her, stopping at a branch just across from them and maybe ten feet away. “Such sweet temper, even after that tantrum. Silence, girl. The men are talking.” He let his eyes travel dismissively from the girl to the ghoul. "A man who destroys everything he holds dear. What about that girl, there? How dear do you hold her?"

"That won't be your concern when you're feeding the trees you've terrorized." Karuka bristled and her muscles tensed, legs ready to propel her to the next branch and her spear through dar Eamon’s throat. Seth raised his hand, distracting and deflecting her. The longer they could keep their enemy talking, the better chance they had of coming up with a working plan.

“I would think you of all people could see telling that girl to shut up is a quick journey to becoming a eunuch…” Seth began, letting his eyes journey back to the Shaman before them. “Now, I’m willing to bet that you aren’t just here to see who’s going to kill you. So why don’t we skip the pleasantries and get down to business?”

“Why did I not kill you while you hung helplessly, you mean? Why would I, when you were doing my work for me?” A flicker of flame flitted across the Gavan’s fingers, drawing a hiss from the highly-flammable ghoul. “You see, dog, you are of no consequence to me. The girl, however...much more annoying. As you just witnessed.”

“Careful there, friend. I might start getting the feeling you are trying to insult me, and I have a good record of hurting those that make that mistake,” Seth snarled.

“Why would I care about the opinion of a miserable beast who allowed others to form it for him before he died?” Gavan spat. “You spent most your life living up to your heritage, and then the last few years of it cowering in terror of what you had wrought.”

Seth took a step forward, his posture straightening up, bringing him to his full height. Gavan didn’t so much as flinch at the obvious show of temper; the ghoul wasn’t so big compared to most of his own race. Seth glowered at him from under the hat, eyes narrowed to slits, looking down upon the Draconian. It took him a few moments to realize no more words had passed between them, despite every profanity that coursed through the ghoul’s mind. “Give me a reason not to water the trees with your blood…”

“Listen, dog. You can bark all you want, but don’t be thinking you can bite,” The Draconian said as another spark erupted from his hand, surprising Seth and eliciting a visible flinch from him. Gavan’s mouth opened into a dark leer at the blatant startle, letting the flame fly. The ghoul hopped back, instinctively protecting himself from the lethal tongue of flame. “Beasts are creatures of instinct,” Gavan rumbled, summoning up another fireball and winding it around his hand like a toy. “They grow up relying on instincts to hunt, thrive, and reproduce. Those instincts are all they are, boy, they are all they ever needed and have no concept of throwing away the things that kept them alive…”

Seth, to his credit, was trying to cover up the unease that had entered his soul, even as his knees bent slightly to allow for faster movement. While he had lost some height, it only seemed to underline the fight with the fear coursing through the Lavinian Demon. The fact he hadn’t already bolted was a testament to his willpower. He seemed prepared to move in some direction when Gavan began his speech once more.

“Men are not beasts. They refuse to submit to their base instincts and become all the stronger for it. Have you ever wondered why you are an undead abomination, feasting on the flesh of the living to keep your more civil behaviors, dog?” Gavan challenged Seth, that leer widening into a grin.

“You got a point you’re making?” Seth retorted.

“Have you ever thought, Seth Dahlios, that you are a beast in death, because thats all you were in life?” Warning sirens went off in Seth’s head and his body moved, no longer trying to close the gap. He was no longer in control of himself as the bolt of fire streaked at him. Soon he found himself crouching on a tree branch overlooking the area. The shaman laughed at the obvious fear before he began to pepper the flaming bolts at the ghoul in rapid succession, forcing him to leap from branch to branch. His laughter followed the pathetic undead creation in his flight. Soon the ghoul was gone, not wishing to risk it anymore.

Gavan sneered, addressing Karuka without looking at her, preferring the drama of treating her like a stray kitten whose protective wolf had run away without her. “And then there was o-” Yellow eyes finally reached the spot where the girl he’d written off as insignificant had been standing. Had been.

“The one that bites.” Her voice sounded from directly behind him. She had used his distraction with the ghoul to stalk her target, to be invisible to him until she was ready to strike. Pain pricked between dar Eamon’s wings before he could turn to face her, a stab from her spear that barely punctured his hard scales. But that tiny puncture was all the weapon needed to send electricity exploding through his body, making it writhe and convulse out of his control.

She danced around him while he twitched, prone, taking advantage of his weakness to drive the crackling prevalida spearhead into the muscle of his right wing, scorching and crippling it. Each of his barely-controlled thrashes to drive her away from him or knock her from the broad branch she dodged with grace, speed and a vicious blow from the blunt end of her weapon.

Infuriated and in agony, the shaman called out to the bog. While it hadn’t warned him of the first impending attack, it didn’t dare disobey his command directly. Vines, some thick and rigid, some young and pliable, unwound from the trees by the dozen. They lashed and wrapped around the girl, attacking her with the fury of a thousand damned souls.

They forced her back and away, often sacrificing themselves to her counter attacks, giving him a welcome opportunity to shake off the jerky spasms and get his feet back under him. His first mistake: letting her catch her breath.

His second mistake: disregarding her in favor of the ghoul. If he’d taken her out first, just after she’d wound down from her rage, there would have been only victory for him, instead of victory and pain.

She was an unusual thing, he mused as he watched her through yellow eyes. She had nearly tracked him down with no indication of where he might be. She moved through a bog she’d never seen before like it was home, because it told her about itself. Even though he was native to Fiorair, it didn’t simply chat with him. Now she batted and charged through the vines, still coming at him despite what had to be crushing exhaustion.

He had misjudged her. She wasn’t insignificant, just young. Her spirit was absolutely magnificent, nearly Draconic in the force of its will. He could use her.

The shaman took renewed control of his environs, attacking with purpose. Too many vines came for Karuka for her to dodge them all, wrapping around her and yanking her back, hitting her head on the tree’s trunk with a nasty crack.

Gavan dar Eamon’s yellow leer was the last thing Karuka saw.

The beast ran. It knew only fear, as the source of its destruction had come so close to consuming its life. It ignored logic and reason in favor of its survival. What good was rescuing a girl if the second a flame caressed him would be his last? There were so few forces able to destroy the beast, and it had an unnatural fear of those that carried the weight of his life or death. It continued to sprint, trying to put as much distance between itself and the shaman, even as the mocking laughter of Gavan dar Eamon rang in the ghoul’s ear.

The figure flitted from tree to tree without a second glance, each step sure and swift. There was no doubt, no confusion in the monster’s eyes; this was what it was supposed to do. That was, until he stepped on a branch, and despite the old tree being more than enough to support the ghoul’s weight, it snapped like a twig. The weight of the chains dragged his hands to below as he plummeted head first towards the ground.

A ghastly howl erupted before a loud [/i]crash[/i] filtered through the trees and the ghoul landed into the filmy murk below. The force of the creature’s impact sent the water spraying up in a cascade and left a deep indent in the mud at the bottom. The meteor that was the ghoul lay unable to move despite fighting with all his strength, the chains sinking deeper and deeper into the ground until he could barely move. His legs kicked off the ground to no avail, the mud giving no purchase and the chains giving no slack.

It growled and gnashed and wailed until the fog of fear dissipated. The monster, realizing it was safe despite its imprisonment, let logic and reason take hold once more.

Other than the occasional twitch of residual fear the ghoul remained still in the crater it had formed. Water dripped off the body even as it looked upon the chains. They seemed to symbolize so much of who he was. It was odd that they had saved him from a far more ignoble fate than mere death. The ever lurking fear of cowardice was a plague upon the Ghoul who had suffered too much from such a malady in life. Looking over the chains that had protected him he saw each individual link, almost for the first time, a glyph glowing and receding back into the wrought metal here and there.

“I never thought I’d be thankful these damn things are on me…” He muttered wryly. The clarity those words brought was soothing to the heady rush the adrenaline that had coursed through his body had created. He shook his head as he looked upon the chains and gave a soft sigh of frustration. Jerking his hand he saw he could maybe get a link out of the dirt, before they would hold fast and remain where they were.

“I’m getting tired of this shit.” He finally said after his moment’s reflection. He turned to face where he had fought against Gavan and jerked upon the chains, feeling them slip effortlessly from their muddy sheath. The thought of the shaman caused the ghoul to punch a nearby tree a residual crack echoing through the area. He left his knuckles resting against the splintered wood before he opened his hand and looked upon the damage he had done. His frustration was not in the loss, but the mere ease at how he had lost. It was then his thoguhts turned to the tawny girl he had left before the Shaman.

...you killed her… The girl didn’t have the sense to run, even when she was outmatched. She would have stayed to fight the shaman. Even if Karuka had run, Seth’s speed was far greater than her own and dar Eamon would have caught her and destroyed her. You killed her.

Fire kindled in his chest as those words wound through his head. He punched the tree before him again and again as he felt his frustrations mount with every act of overt violence. He had sat upon his rage, and shackled it was as impotent as a caged rat. He had no outlet to see it freed other than the occasional feeding, even then it didn’t diminish it. All he accomplished was reminding himself why he was angry. Finally the force of his blows had wrought enough harm and the poor tree that had served as his punching bag collapsed, bringing the ancient plant down.

He looked upon the freshly destroyed tree, before he finally spoke, giving voice to that impotent rage, “I’m tired of people shackling me to my past. I’m tired of being punished for crimes I tried to atone for relentlessly. I’m tired of being judged by people who have no concept of what happened. I’m more than gods be damned tired of being forced to be a beast when I know I could have kicked that son of a bitch’s ass!”

Silence, as profound as when he awoke to his dead parents greeted him. It seemed only to ask what he was going to do about it.

“I may have killed a girl with this stupid curse, but I’ll be damned if I don’t drag that smug asshole to hell with me…” He finally said.

The first to go was the fear of what he could do. He was a murdering monster, and it had gotten him this far. People didn’t mess with him because they knew the consequences. It had protected friends who used his name. He was their shield against other monsters who feared the wrath of the Lavinian Demon. To be anything less than who he was, would only serve to hinder his actions. He was tired of living like he was going to break everything about him because of what he was capable of.

Next went the guilt of his actions. He was dead, the hole in his chest proved this. There could be no debate; he had paid penance for his sins. His debts for crimes committed was repaid the moment the Homunculi Kycoo punched through Seth’s chest to the heart of the Lavinian Demon. Execution of sentence was carried out when his heart hit the dirt, the final wound that the Lavinian could not ignore. He had died a warriors death, on his feet and fighting. There could be no more noble a death.

He rose to his full height as he face the sky for the first time he could remember. His eyes closed even as he felt the moisture from landing in the bog trickle down his body. He was drenched, but free. A baptism of sorts had finally shed the guilt of his old life, giving him back the freedom to act, that very freedom that had driven him to become a thief in the first place. The few errant rays of sunlight filtered down on him, blessing the ghoul’s skin with its scorching heat. He basked in it for a moment before his eyes opened.

Seth Dahlios, Thief Extraordinaire in defiance of the laws of his home.

Seth Dahlios, Lavinian Demon for the death of his parents by his hand.

Seth Dahlios, Scourge of Scara Brae for the brazen theft of their arena.

Seth Dahlios, Hex Magi for the power that sang in his very blood.

Seth Dahlios, Poster Child of Lavinya, showing the world the problems of absolute power.

You killed her…

“Shut up, I’m going to set it right,” Seth responded. Without another word, he was off climbing the trees about him. His gait saw him leap from tree to tree before a chain snaked out and caught a low lying branch. With little effort he swung forward and hooked another chain, brachiating through the forest until with enough momentum, he landed amongst the thickened tree branches. Seth Dahlios, moved towards another fight. This time however, he pulled up his gauntlets as he stalked towards his targets.

Gavan dar Eamon may have sucker punched him with his fear of fire, but Seth would never give him that opening twice.

“Degraded, defiled and broken, but a powerful Tenalach. She will be useful to us.� The voices - this one female, most male - filtered in and out of her awareness, but were not what had called her back.

Pain pervaded Karuka’s world, starting at an angry throbbing in the back of her skull and traveling down her body. Deep rends tore carefully-carved patterns up and down her arms and legs and across her belly and back. Her vlince was gone, replaced with a crude lizardskin wrapping around her chest and hips. What little skin on her wasn’t red with blood was livid purple and black with bruises. Every fiber of every muscle groaned in misery.

But that hadn’t called her back to consciousness, either.

Taodoine chirped nearby, anxiously crying out for her to come help him. She struggled to rise, shunting her own injuries to the side, but she was lashed to a rough wooden platform by her wrists and ankles, unable to move.

“She stirs,� a raspy male voice piped up from her left side. “Why did we not kill her before now?�

Blue eyes cracked open as far as they could to regard the speaker, a red Draconian male whose eyes locked onto the elder shaman. Standing with him were three other apprentices; a black, a blue, and a green. The green was a winged female, likely dar Eamon’s own daughter. Her eyes, a paler yellow than Gavan’s, looked upon her prisoner with a mix of pity and revulsion.

“All we’ve broken for sure is her body.� Gavan dar Eamon stepped forward, heavy feet silent on the thick moss that padded the clearing. Something sharp and warm - likely a bone knife; certain traditions preferred them for ritual sacrifice - ran down the redhead’s belly, not quite slicing into her already abused skin. “To use her, that is not nearly enough.�

Karuka gathered up the thick, stale blood that had pooled in her mouth, letting the red glob fly for her captor’s eye. Gavan roared in fury, slamming the back of his hand across her face with enough force to send darkness and spiralling lights dancing through her vision. A scream of agony and anger tore free from her throat, echoing out of the small, circular ritual grove and through the trees beyond. Wind stirred the leaves, swirling the scents of human blood with fetid swamp water and the sharp, bitter herbs of a binding ritual that had yet to truly begin. A snarl escaped the bloodied redhead; these bastards intended to add her spirit to the thousands of tortured souls trapped within the bog.

Criing. Chlang.

There it was, the out-of-place sound that had called her back through the black fog: the jangle of chains and the bog’s murmured warning of death descending.

The Draconians worked around her, rubbing their claws with poisonous plants to torture her as painfully as possible. Were they deaf? Or…

Swollen lips pulled back from bloodied teeth. “Duilaithe,� she sneered. Five pairs of reptilian eyes focused on the lone human. Rejected? From what?

Chains burst from the edge of the clearing in answer to the unspoken question, slamming through the chest of the red acolyte and the head of the blue. Blood and bone shards showered down on Karuka, gore that at long last was not her own. Undead arms yanked back, dropping the headless corpse and dragging the heartless a few yards, until it caught on a rock and the chain ripped free. Three living Draconian jaws dropped; the Hex Ghoul should have been long gone, never to return to Fiorair for fear of its cremation.

Malice flew in their moment of stunned inaction, the obsidian blade tumbling end over end, whistling toward its target. Seth could have aimed for any of the Draconians and perhaps killed one, but their retaliation would have been immediate and fatal. Instead, without even the slimmest margin for error, the ghoul’s aim was for the ropes binding Karuka’s right hand. The angle was terrible, the blade poorly balanced to throw.

The throw itself was flawless. Malice sheared neatly through the ropes and dug its tip into the table without so much as scratching the girl’s skin. Freed, her hand moved of its own accord, grabbing the dagger’s hilt and slashing at the ropes that held her other hand.

Three Draconians moved at once, the two acolytes going for the sacrifice and the shaman launching himself forward to deal with the ghoul. Fire burst forth from his hand, but a tiny, tumbling ball of red and gold intercepted it, taking the blast and landing on the ground unchanged save for a few pinfeathers that had emerged from his fluff.

If Karuka’s bird was here… Seth’s eyes traveled up to where it had fallen from. There were her things - her satchel, her spear... and her knife belt. A bloodied chain flicked up, sweeping the lot down, where Taodoine immediately scuttled to reclaim his safe hiding space in the bag.

A pained snarl came from the altar, and the female Draconian stumbled back, shaking her head to clear blood from her eyes. Karuka - only recognizable now for her dark red hair and the fact she was sawing herself free instead of playing dead - lashed out at the black acolyte the instant the last rope snapped, plunging through clawed hands to drive Malice through the soft flesh at the base of his throat, dropping him before he had a chance to attack her further.

A wry chuckle left the ghoul’s throat. Karu was half dead and still fighting. Sounded about right. “And then there were two,� he addressed dar Eamon, chucking one of the girl’s throwing knives at the shaman’s face before he could build up another fireball, forcing him to retreat. “Catch!�

He sent the spear flying for the girl he was bound to, redwood and prevalida gleaming in the dim light. The ghoul turned his attention to the shaman when her hand closed around it; Karuka could handle herself for a couple of minutes at least. “Who’s the beast now?�

Across the clearing, a bloodied human faced off against a winged Draconian, blue eyes glowering into pale yellow ones. Karuka could hear the screams of Fiorair’s spirits, could feel its rage beating in her blood. All she could see in the other woman was a bewildered trepidation.

“What…?�

“What?� Karuka spat more blood onto the moss. “A weapon of great consequence, in the hands of a master.�

The dance began.

Blades began to join it in a lazy arc as the juggling of blades slowly pulled every last knife from her belt. While Seth had thrown Malice with utmost skill, he knew that just as much luck had been responsible for his success. Not that the Ghoul would ever admit it. Still Gavan stalked over to him as the last knife joined the swirling mesh of metal, each twist, turn and toss keeping the blades spinning about Seth. Dar Eamon looked at the haughty display before him and cocked his head in confusion the now empty leather belt falling to the moist soil of the bog.

He relished that look even as the Shaman spoke. “What in the hells brought you back to your death?”

A dark chuckle escaped Seth. “You think you can kill me. That’s cute.”

“I can send you running in fear with a single flick of the wrist, beast. You have no power here; this is my domain. There is nothing you can do that will stop me, no ruse you can play that won’t end in you cremated and sent back to the hell in which you belong,” Gavan challenged taking a firmer grip on the bone blade in his hand.

“Enough talk, Gavan. If you are going to attack, do it,” Seth responded in kind. The Shaman grinned as he called forth the vines again, certain to trap the once great man and drag him down into the bog. Though he had freed the girl, and though that was an inconvenience, he could make the Ghoul watch her bleed, break and die. The beast had come back to challenge the Lord of the Swamp for the sake of his master, and for that insolence he would suffer.

What shocked him was how fast the Ghoul was. One second he was in front of the Draconian, the next he was behind the Shaman, kicking Gavan forwards. As he stumbled a step he realized the vines were now going past him, slowing his own feet as he had to pull them from the writhing mass he had called forth. So, he went to the only way he could quickly end the fight, summoning fire to his hand, only to find a knife sailing through the air at him, lodging into a bicep with the force of a crossbow bolt.

He stumbled from the force, dropping to a knee momentarily. The vines continued their movement, snaking their way over his leg, openly defying him while simultaneously obeying him.“I am your master,” he screeched. “Get off me!”

The vines recoiled with a speed they had not shown in attacking the Ghoul. It was then Seth’s taunting laughter filtered to his ears. He looked up at the Ghoul as another knife fired out, sticking into his other bicep. With an enraged roar, the shaman gripped the blades, ripping them out of his arms. Seth’s mocking words echoed in his head. “You aren’t the master of anything, but being a colossal dick. Is it any wonder the bog purposefully corrupts your orders with the shit you pulled? Tell me, how did you force it to listen to you when you decided to use it as a weapon, rather than protect it as a warden?”

“You know the answer Ghoul, you can certainly feel it.” Gavan challenged as he pulled to his feet, the ground beneath him firming to support the effort. Seth’s eyes narrowed slightly, then widened when he realized what the Draconian meant. It had taken a while for him to register it, so vibrant was Fiorair’s web of life, but dar Eamon barely registered in his sense of life. It worked well in protecting him from Seth’s senses; where Gavan was a flickering candle flame, Karuka had been a bonfire that had drawn him as a ship to a lighthouse. Her light had brought him here, but it also greatly eclipsed that of his opponent.

“You’re sick,” Seth finally managed as Gavan laughed heartily, bringing the bone blade out to the side. He charged the Ghoul and brought his knife into Seth’s juggling act, only to find it wasn’t just for show. The Lavinian finally went on the offensive when the Shaman challenged his blade barrier. The second he switched from defense to attack daggers came from everywhere, stabbing and slashing at the defiler before him. Blood sang through the air until Gavan collapsed under more pain. He shook his head to clear it before he spoke.

“I was told you lost those daggers to Sarah, your sister. How did you get them back?”

“Easy, I asked for them back. How many fragments did you make, Gavan?”

“All in good time, my dear tinderbox,” Gavan snarled as he charged back into the Ghoul. Seth let daggers drop from the weave as he went down to a particular two. Two that seemed to react more quickly, more intuitively to his maneuvers. Ebony and Ivory easily parried the single dagger the man wielded before the Ghoul grabbed Gavan by the throat and hoisted him up, holding him impassively aloft though the shaman was nearly as massive as he was. The waters of the bog dripped free from Gavan’s claws, rushing free of him as quickly as they could. He flapped his wings, fighting to unbalance the Ghoul, but the cold grip was iron, the dead face impassive.

“How many did you make, Gavan?” Seth growled.

“Enough,” Gavan retorted, trying to maintain his superiority despite failing to affect Seth at all. He held his hands out to the side, causing Seth to tighten his grip on the man’s throat to bruising force. Reptilian hands reached up to claw at Seth’s hand, sacrificing the spark they were trying to summon in the fight to survive. “Twelve.”

“You shred your soul twelve times to force Fiorair to obey you?” Seth asked. For once the Ghoul could not contain his surprise. He himself had done something similar, shredding his soul once. To do so twelve times…

“I needed the Tenalach; she can give me the control to make the sacrifice worthwhile! A weapon that the outsiders could never fathom, creating impenetrable protection around Dheathain! You would never understand Ghoul, you destroyed everything precious to you for nothing more than a sick and twisted powerplay!”

Seth threw the shaman, skipping him across the muddy ground as a stone across water. A resounding crack thundered through the forest as a tree helpfully stopped his momentum. The Shaman hunched beneath the branches, slow to rise. Each breath was a separate piece of agony.

He looked upon Gavan with a look of utter revulsion before he spoke. “Do you know what the punishment for shredding your soul like that is? You aren’t a whole soul, Gavan dar Eamon. There is no judgment for ones like you-”

“Then all the better, without judgment I shall go to the afterlife I deserve for protect-”

“You deluded fool." Seth responded. Gavan tried to fling a flame at the Ghoul, only to find it went wildly off course when the Ghoul simply disappeared from his sight, only to reappear with his right hand around the shaman’s neck, slamming him against the tree with another resounding crack. Seth’s explanation continued. “You aren’t even close to the truth. There will be no glory of heaven, no punishment of hell for us. We are the dead that walk the Immaterium for eternity. We watch every last accomplishment die. We will get no respite from our vigil. We shall never see our loved ones. We will simply exist, cursed to watch everything we hold dear crumble to dust. We will watch our loved ones try and fail. We will think we can save them, but they will follow us into damnation, and there will be nothing we can do to stop it.”

Gavan’s eyes seemed to focus elsewhere. His brow furrowed at the message he received before he looked at Seth, “You haven’t killed me, have you more righteous blathering to offend my sense of smell with?”

The Lavinian Demon had to give the man credit for staying the course with false bravado. Seth merely slammed Gavan into the trunk of the tree once more before the knife fell from the shaman’s grip. The blade sunk into the mud before he felt the call. The sirens wail of a child crying for its father. Seth glowered at the Shaman as he sneered, “You had it all this time and you hid it from me…”

Gavan smiled, teeth covered in blood before he croaked, “You are supposed to be a master of daggers that saw his blades as family, how could you not recognize your own Spite?”

As Hex Ghoul and Honorless Guardian faced off on the other side of the clearing, the Scion and the Sacrifice glared at each other. The moss on which they stood reeked with human blood and oozed with slime. Corpses littered the sacred soil, ripped from their lives by one dead and one dying.

Maidreach ar Gavan had done everything her father had asked of her. She had set up the ritual table exactly to his specifications, everything was in readiness for the Tenalach he had sensed coming to be bound to the swamp, a spectral slave. She had watched him lay the girl down, strip her of her foreign clothing and garb her in the lizard hide that would let their magic flow through her more easily. She had watched him give the prisoner over to her fellow students to break, had watched the human slip in and out of consciousness during their rough treatment. She had watched her father carve the ritual glyphs into the soft golden flesh.

Blood still flowed from the girl at every heartbeat, washing over her like death’s baptism. Karuka o Faylinn could hardly stand, and yet those blue eyes still met the Draconian shaman’s yellow ones defiantly, a force of will stronger than fire.

It was ridiculous; the young shaman was strong and healthy, the human at least half dead. And yet something in the way she held herself despite her injuries, something about the fury simmering in her eyes, something about the fire that burned so hot in her soul nothing four acolytes had done could extinguish… It was Maidreach who flinched, taking a step back. And it was Karuka who took advantage of it, leveling her spear and charging forward, intending murder with every ounce of strength she had left to her.

The Tenalach had no strength left, she had no chance, didn’t she see that? Lack of blood dragged her steps and robbed her arms of strength. She had nothing. She had nothing and her charge had to be a bluff.

Maidreach straightened up, spreading her wings and showing her formidable fangs to the human in a threat display of her own. There was no way this broken human could possibly -

A roar became a howl as metal punctured a leathery membrane. The howl became a scream as lightning exploded from the metal, leaving the wing spasming uncontrollably though the reptilian woman pulled away. The human’s charge had been no bluff.

Both women gasped in the aftermath of Karuka’s attack. The redhead, though ferocious, was weak. The green-scaled, though strong, had been caught off guard and injured. Yellow eyes glanced to the men. Her father was struggling against the dead man. The living female would die from her injuries or by Maidreach’s hand soon enough.

If she died unbound to the swamp, there was no point in any of their family’s trials or the sacrifice’s suffering. The junior shaman had no time to break the Tenalach’s spirit and she disagreed with her father that that was the best course of action. Surely the soul would be a better control for the soul fragments and the swamp itself if it still had its fight. Gavan already had control of Fiorair and his reach extended into Luthmor. What would there be for Karuka after she was a bound soul but to fall into line under his claws?

The redhead charged again, whirling her spear fro a battering strike to her captor’s skull. Maidreach ducked from it, only to take a sharp jab to the other wing. With a furious screech, she slammed a scaled hand into an already-crushed cheekbone, sending the smaller creature flying into the soft moss.

With the human struggling to rise and her wings dragging uselessly behind her, Maidreach rushed to the offering table, still slick with rapidly-drying blood. In it she could make out some of the patterns carved into Karuka’s back - glyphs of sealing. The glyphs representing Fiorair and Luthmor - the truly wild parts of Dheathain - marked her belly, from just below her ribs to her navel.

A sacred incantation and a touch of flame began the ritual. Herbs selected for their connections to the spirit world, to the earth, and for their ability to channel magic burned along with the blood already spilt. It filled the glade with a noxious, reeking fume, and Karuka, already almost to her feet, braced herself on her staff, fighting down an agonized cry.

Every single cut on her began to burn, bubbling the skin and sealing the flesh. She could feel Fiorair roar in frustration, calling her to it but begging her stand. Screaming at her to fight. Her world was red and pain and blood and fire and fear, and not all of it her own. She grabbed desperately for the life she felt burning out of her, because she would be damned if she stopped fighting now.

Swollen lips pulled back from teeth; another chanted phrase built the agony to new heights. A growl ripped from her throat, then a scream. A scream that made the Draconian female pause and look up…

A scream as much rage as pain.

Somehow, despite her injuries, the human picked up her weapon once more, charging forward with all the fury of the swamp’s lost souls. She slashed and stabbed, attacking the young shaman with expert ferocity. Her strikes were weak and slow, but blocking them delayed Maidreach in completing the incantation, and as often as not one attack served as a distraction for another.

Finally, with a shove that knocked Karuka once more to the ground, Maidreach shouted the final incantation. “Go dtÃ* deireadh an ama!â€�

Every nerve in the Celt’s body exploded at the same time. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t scream, she couldn’t cry. Her flesh begged her to slip into the merciful blackness of oblivion and flee the white-hot agony that jolted up and down her limbs and through her organs. Her body bowed backward in a rictus of agony, bony shoulders digging into the peat.

It lasted forever, and she collapsed limply when the spell had run its course, sucking in ragged breaths of fetid, humid air. She could feel the swamp, all of it, from border to border. She could feel where Gavan had placed the shards of his soul. She could feel the people within it, the ancient buildings, the even more ancient trees.

The squish of a heavy foot on damp ground brought her back to her senses; with her bound, the shamans needed her dead.

“Duilaithe," she spat, though it was more rasp than whisper. “Can’t you hear it?�

A purple, blue and amber hand gripped the blood-stained earth beneath it, calling. In response, vines shot up from the ground, encircling and ensnaring the Draconian who had botched her ritual. With every instant they climbed higher, grabbing more insistently with every panicked tug. Finally, mercilessly, they pulled back into the ground, sucking down Maidreach with the dreadful sounds of snapping bones and rending flesh. She managed a scream before she died, an alien sound that echoed for more than a mile despite the heavy air and dense vegetation.

Exhausted and woozy, but no longer bleeding, Karuka rolled to her stomach, shoving herself first to all fours, then to her knees. Finally, with the help of her spear - freshly dubbed Consequence - she stood, lumbering to Seth and his toy.

“Do you hear it, Gavan? Fiorair is angry.�

Shock covered the Shaman’s face; the ritual had not only completed, the human lived and had her own will. But he was still the swamp’s master, even if the Tenalach was fighting for that title now. With a gesture, he called on the vines and the trees one more time, because the dim existence of the ghoul was rapidly turning hot and bright. He couldn’t take them both at once… not like this.

With an alacrity Fiorair hadn’t shown in days, the bog obeyed, lashing onto the girl and sucking her into a tree, which pulled her in and encased her. With her dealt with until he could take care of her properly, he turned once more to the ghoul.

Time seemed to still in the clearing as the Shaman turned back to the ghoul. Each glowered at the other, the tension in the area rising to the point one would need a machete to traverse the bog. The two circled the clearing, seeking openings in their opponent’s defenses. Both knew the score at this moment, Seth had inflicted superficial wounds, and Gavan was a mere spark away from roasting the ghoul. They stopped sizing each other up and looked across the clearing at each other. Seth knelt down, carefully gripping the hilt of his long-lost dagger, Gavan pointing distastefully at the blade. “It spoke to me, of your sins and your death in the hopes of atonement,” he spat.

“Where I come from, we have an old saying,” Seth rumbled.

Gavan felt the weight of the ghoul’s words and cocked his head to the side and challenged, “And just what is that?”

“Do not wield another’s blades, you cannot fathom the choices they have made,” Seth replied firmly. Blades tucked safely into dagger belt he cracked the knuckles in his hands as he looked upon Gavan dar Eamon. The shaman seemed to drink it in, before for one moment, everything changed. Gavan visibly flinched as Seth’s soul burst forth from every pore of his skin, radiating outwards in a searing heat that the swamp seemed to back off from.

“Oh but I can, Zek’smaug’ok’s spirit resides in that blade, bound forever in service to you. It whispered to me your secrets, thinking I could put an end to his torment. When I have disposed of you, beast, I shall have the animus of a dragon added to my impressive collection of spirits-”

“Enough talk!” Seth’s voice boomed through the clearing. Gavan tried to stand firm before the ghoul only to find his opponent had disappeared only to reappear behind him. A savage punch to the back of dar Eamon’s head sent his thoughts askew. He stumbled a step, only for a second punch, then a third to slam brutally into his skull. He finally spun to face his attacker only to start finding he was more than capable of punching him in the face. He staggered under the blows, bringing his arms in close and waited. The Draconian shoved the next punch wide, sending it flying past the Shaman’s face. Before he could send a punch of his own at the ghoul, a cold hand viciously gripped the scales on the back of his skull.

The ghoul yanked dar Eamon forward, smashing a knee into his stomach. A choking gasp filtered into the clearing as the shaman fell to the muddy ground, unable to find respite from the ghoul’s assault. He hunched over, catching his breath before his hand burst into flame. Bringing his hand up he tried a sucker punch into the centermass of the ghoul, only to find he was no longer there. His punch carried him up off his feet, the flames dying as his elation at the easy win turned to confusion. Where had the ghoul gone?

A chain snared around his neck each link inscribed with a rune that glowed and faded. His hands clawed at the metal, trying to get some grip only to feel a savage kick force his knee to bend. He was brought to his knees even as the boot planted firmly between the shaman’s damaged wings. The only sound he could make was a gasping wheeze.

“I should rip your head off right now, but that’s too good a death for you, Gavan dar Eamon,” Seth hissed.

The chain uncoiled, giving him much-needed air. The ghoul only gave him a brief respite, picking up the Shaman and throwing him towards the nearest tree. The Shaman, in a brief moment of lucidity, flapped his wings and halted his backward momentum. Hovering just off the ground he struggled towards the sky, hopefully to rain fire down on the man. He had underestimated the ghoul, who despite encountering flame twice had evaded every attempt to be lit ablaze. He began to gain altitude before he hear the clanking of chains.

When he had fought the ghoul the first time he had seen the ghoul use the chain to grab the girl by the foot. It had shown he was rather skilled with the things, but he had never expected the speed and accuracy to catch a Draconian midflight. He tried to gain more height, and was sadly disabused by the notion when his flight turned into a meteoric descent. He slammed deep into the ground with a wet slap. Try as he might, he couldn’t gain any traction against the ghoul who, with a jerk of the chain, began to bring Gavan into motion again.

“Your wings, you won’t be needing those anymore, right?”

A shiver crawled up Gavan’s spine as the ghoul in a rotating motion began to lift the Draconian off the ground. With the wet dirt offering little resistance he began to spin wildly, arms flailing to catch anything to hold onto. His wild journey ended abruptly with his back slapping harshly against one of the trees. A cry of pain erupted from the Shaman when he felt something give in his wings. He knew if he survived today it would be months before he could fly. His back was alight with pain, even as he felt the tug of the chain. In a blind panic he reached for his ankle, only to find himself sent sailing through the air again. He clawed for anything to hold. He begged and pleaded to whatever merciful god that existed he could stop the motion, but his prayers went unanswered. Once more the wings slammed against unyielding wood.

This time he knew they were shattered. He would never fly again.

The chain mercifully uncoiled from about his ankle, the pain there eclipsed by the burning agony that had engulfed his back. He reached for the wings to find them as pliant as his skin in places they should have been rigid and firm. Nothing short of magic or a miracle would see them to even half the functionality they once served. He whimpered in pain, trying to assess the damage before a boot slammed into his back, giving him a new definition of the word.

Everything hurt. Gavan dar Eamon had lost everything to the brutal onslaught of the ghoul, who seemed all too eager to stop the game he had been playing. He tried to stand up only to be forced back into the dirt, the wave of agony created by the boot pressing on his back too much for him to overcome. He let out another strangled cry, knowing Seth had him. He didn’t even want to summon fire anymore. He was genuinely afraid of what would happen if he dared again.

The ghoul grabbed Gavan by the back of his neck and dragged him to the middle of the clearing. He circled his prey before he sneered, “You don’t deserve wings. You’re a weak pissant that deserves nothing good, nothing special.”

Gavan shivered at the cold tone before his eyes widened, hearing the sound of bone upon metal. He attempted to scramble only to feel a chain wrap about his ankle, dragging him closer. A boot snapped his leg at the shin with ease, sending a new wave of agony. It was finally too much for the shaman who vomited at the trauma his body was put into. His eyes were glazed over at the act, and he seemed oblivious to the sounds of meat peeling back. He wasn’t sure what was going on, until before him, lay the tattered remnants of his wings. It was then he heard Seth growl in his ear, “There…”

Gavan moaned in pain only the see the demon walk into his vision. He grabbed Gavan by his snout and forced the Draconian to look at into the soulless gray eyes.

“Oh no, I’m not going to kill you,” Seth sneered into his face. “You get to live this tortured agonized existence. That would be too easy a fate for you, to die by my hand. Now, undo whatever the hell you did to my friend, or I will introduce you to levels of agony I’ve only dreamt of trying.”

Ebony slid from its sheath with the hungry rasp of metal on leather. The flat of the blade tapped ever so gently against the tip of the Draconian’s snout, sending agony rippling afresh through every wound on his body.

“I cannot.” Dar Eamon’s head didn’t fight the ghoul’s grip; it was over. The ghoul could only torture him anymore; there was nothing he could do to rescue the redhead. “Fiorair is harsh, it does not heed the broken and the beaten. I have lost, beast. But so have you, and so has she. Take comfort, though. Her tomb is better than yours will ever be.”

All was quiet, dark and warm. Smooth wood gently cradled her battered body. Soothing sap spread over her burns, cuts and bruises, easing her agony. With Gavan’s control slipping away, the swamp had stopped screaming. Instead it sang and hummed to her. She was welcome here in Fiorair. She was wanted. She was loved.

Bound to Dheathain, whether through evil purpose or love of the land, she could feel its strength and vitality. Every leaf, every vine, every twist of every root - it was part of her, and she of it. Gavan’s soul shards, scattered around the swamp, were not welcome or wanted.

No more.

~*~*~

Seth glared at the wingless Draconian, then looked at the tree where Karuka was entombed. He could take the tree down in a matter of minutes and pull her out, but if she hadn’t suffocated in the time he’d spent torturing dar Eamon, she certainly would be dead by the time he managed to effect a rescue. Gavan was right about one thing: if Karu had to be buried anywhere, this was probably a place that suited her.

He opened himself, feeling for her life force. He expected that roaring bonfire to be down to a flickering ember or a cold cinder. What he felt instead made him gasp. Her life force filled the grove, a wildfire beating without hesitation or limit. She permeated the air and water, the trees burned with her light. The ancient one that had swallowed her unfurled like a flower, and what emerged from its embrace was no human girl. “I should have known not to listen to you,” he growled at the Shaman. “You’ve been wrong about everything so far, why is this any different?”

Karuka emanated light, shining like the sun and driving out the gloom of the bog. Where Gavan had carved into her flesh was covered with what looked like molten gold, so that she was clad in glory. Shining red hair flew every direction, though there was no wind, and when she came to the end of her slow descent, the moss steamed and scorched beneath her feet.

Blazing blue eyes regarded both disgraced men, but settled on the one whose heart still beat. Sure steps drew her nearer, and the ghoul took his opportunity to slink away to the edge of the clearing, lest she turn her rage on him instead.

“Gavan, son of Eamon.” Karuka’s mouth didn’t move, but her voice boomed from all around the grove. ”You offered me slavery in death. But the bog rejects you, and so do I. Instead of dominion, we give you oblivion.”

Gavan started screaming again, this time in soul-deep agony as her force of will, bound with the bog’s, sought out and destroyed his soul fragments with the same relentless fury as wasps hunted their prey. With each step, another one shattered, dispersing his life force into nothingness. By the time she reached him, he was a drooling, panting husk of a man, glazed over eyes incapable of processing any sight, ears unable to process any sound, body, mind and spirit unable to process any more pain.

The ground beneath him lifted him to a kneeling position, and a golden hand clamped down on the top of his skull. There was no scream, no whimper, no sigh of resignation. He simply flaked away at her touch until there was nothing left to mark that the defiling Shaman had ever existed.

Karuka turned to Seth, regarding him with her burning blue eyes, looking at him, into him, through him.

Before he could speak, the light faded from her and she collapsed where she stood, clad only in the lizardskin the shamans had provided her. Her skin was clear of blood and bruises, but two scars remained right below her rib cage - a pair of symbols representing the bond she now shared with the land of Dheathain.

Everything changed.

Seth had been intending to draw out Gavan’s defeat; he wanted the man to suffer for killing a friend. Said friend had other things in mind as she emerged, healed and glowing bright as the mid day sun. He watched the summary execution of the shaman without batting an eye. The destruction of the annoying foe serving a purpose of also cutting his earthly ties to this plane. Seth wished he could have kept a totem intact, to ensure that if Gavan’s soul somehow survived, he’d be stuck in the afterlife watching the firmament for a long, long while.

Even still Seth felt Gavan had taken quite a beating from the redhead.

He moved to the girl when he heard the sounds of twigs snapping from the far end of the clearing. A knife appeared in his hand, his eyes going to the source of the noise where another draconian approached. The ghoul let out a throaty growl. “Why shouldn’t I kill you where you stand?” he muttered.

“I am of the druidic order meant to care for and protect this region.” The response was measured and even. It was not the response of a prey or predator, but of a man that understood such relationships. It was a neutrality that didn’t immediately set Seth on edge to defend the fallen girl. Still, the Lavinian moved between the new arrival and his unconscious charge and hunched, preparing to strike fast if he wished it.

“Your use of the fear response was quite inspiring,” the Druid continued impassively. “Proof that even those succumbing to fear can use it to their advantage.”

“Why are you here?” Seth was having no part in the druid’s banter.

“Gavan Dar Eamon had sealed us out of Fiorar. We could tend to small patches of the bog, but in reality we had no ability to soothe its pain, until a certain undead monstrosity beat Gavan in a fair fight. Though anything that involves you could hardly be called such. Once we felt the connection reopen, we rushed to aid the swamp in all the problems Gavan purposefully inflicted to turn the bog into a hostile land. He was using his control to push the bog into becoming a weapon.”

“He said as much,” Seth replied looking at the singed dirt that had once been the shaman.

“We were warned you’d approach. The bog made it clear to let you pass, to let Gavan think he had easy pickings of you. We kept out all other trespassers so you had a wide playing field.” The man was far closer to a reptile than human, though he could see the features that marked the more human aspects. His neck was pencil thin and seemed to be nothing more than one long, elaborate windpipe. Scales covered his arms and shoulders. They seemed to form where hair would appear on a normal human and ran along his spine where Seth could see. It was an oddity to the half-human half-homunculus.

“Thanks, I guess? What is the point of talking to me, if you’re in the process of retaking the bog?”

The man tilted his head curiously as it considered its answer before he pointed at the girl. “The Tenalach. We’re ensuring she remains alive. The bog told us what had happened, and we need to ensure its warden is still amongst the living.”

“Don’t you worry about her. She’s like a ragweed in a field,” Seth grumbled.

The man let out a wry chuckle. “Those are not your words, are they? They are the words of a comrade in arms. A friend you have not thought of since your death…”

Letho Ravenheart had muttered those words more than once when he had been forced to watch Seth endure wounds that would have eventually killed a lesser man. He often chided whoever worried about the thief by explaining if something killed Seth, they were all doomed, because Seth dying wasn’t possible. Except here I am…

“I think I’ve about had it with freaky dragon people telling me shit I already know like it holds some importance,” Seth muttered as the knife slipped back into a sheath. He pointed at the bodies. “I need their meat, if you want the bones for burial or something fine-”

“No, it’s fitting they are desecrated by your need for flesh. Devour them and I will take the bones. We shall etch glyphs that will ensure they not enjoy rest in the afterlife, and be punished for what they had wrought.”

“And people call me a monster,” Seth muttered.

The draconian bristled at the words. “Do not mistake us for allies Seth Dahlios, Lavinian Demon,” he spat. “Had I my wish, the bog would devour you for sustenance, but you are the Tenalach’s ward and she is Fiorar’s. The bog recognizes the bond between you, even if you do not. It wishes to protect you both.”

Teeth spread in a predatory grin before the ghoul spoke calmly. “Finally you say something that makes some gods be damned sense around here.”

“Go, eat, give me the bones and I shall take my leave. The girl may leave the bog, but tell her it will expect her to return occasionally in order to have her help correct its path. She will know what this means.” The man waved a hand impatiently before the ghoul moved to the bodies and began to strip them in front of the Draconian. If the druid was at all concerned or mortified he didn’t show it, instead looking at the girl as the chains worked their way around the ghoul’s arms once more. There was little else he could tell the ghoul for her that Fiorair wouldn’t tell her; what he had told Seth was more so the ghoul knew he was no enemy. Finally he spoke. “The bog wishes you to know one thing.”

Seth stopped and looked upon the Draconian with a look of confusion.

“You pave a path of bodies in an effort to seek the atonement for your parents. You and I both know the truth, you already had it.” The man then stood up and went over the the altar and began to move about clearing Gavan dar Eamon’s taint from the runic flagstones. He paused in his work when Taodoine emerged from Karuka’s satchel, bending down to stroke the fluffy little bird and offer him some pieces of raw meat that he’d brought specifically in case the Tenalach’s familiar required food. He and his order were no allies of Seth, but they owed Karuka some allegiance, after all she’d been through and become.

Seth merely shook his head and muttered about creepy shamanistic pricks and began to feast, feeling the animalistic instincts recede in the residual feeding frenzy. Bones were tossed in a pile near where Gavan died, and when the last one was added the Druid walked up and nodded, collecting a few choice ones in a satchel and rushing off to begin their eternal torment.

Seth picked up the girl after he had cleaned himself of the blood and carefully cradled her against his chest. It was then he heard the chirping of the baby phoenix who hobbled towards him. The fear sent an electric jolt through so powerful it almost caused his heart to beat in concern that if the bird truly hated him, he’d be a flaming pile of ghoul. Carefully setting her down again, he opened her bag and was grateful when the little ball of down feathers crawled into the pack on its own and began to nestle into an extra shirt she had. Shouldering her gear once more he cradled the girl and began his journey.

The druid called out one last time. “Veyet'toon, wer marfedelom di ithquenti.”

Seth stopped and looked back over his shoulder and shouted out, “Goodbye creepy!” He then continued, and never looked back, as he continued for the port. He’d had enough of the bog full of bugs trying to eat him alive.

A warm wind brushed over Karuka’s face, stirring her hair and calling her back from the darkness. It brought with it the scents of grass and brush; things that didn’t grow in the bog. The warm embrace and sense of belonging she felt in her spirit told her she was still within Fiorair’s boundaries, though.

A hungry avian cry pierced though the haze in her barely-conscious mind, and a grumbled curse answered it. Blue eyes opened to the sight of a gigantic ghoul perched gingerly in a branch above a tiny baby bird. He reached down gingerly with a stick, offering a bite-sized meaty sacrifice to the avatar of fire. Taodoine greedily snatched the food, bobbing his head while he swallowed it down.

Karu sat up in the leafy bough where Seth had secured her, whistling to call her familiar back to her side. A joyful cry met her call, and the little phoenix waddled down the branch as quickly as he could to reach her. He eagerly hopped into her outstretched hand, letting her pet him and feel his full little crop. “Seeing how much he’d feed you before you let him out of the tree, wee bit?”

Seth stepped down from the safety of his perch, looking the tousled redhead over. “Good nap?”

“Don’t know if it was so much a nap as the after effect of that ritual.” Karu looked at her arms and legs and their conspicuous lack of open injuries, then down at the scars on her upper abdomen. She would bear the marks of Dheathain for the rest of her life, but she supposed it was little enough of a price to pay to have a homeland on Althanas.

"Speaking of, what was that light show when the tree spat you out?"

Karuka looked at Seth. Her memory of anything that had happened after the ritual's completion was hazy, and it took her a few moments to consider what it might have been. "Fiorair was angry, and I was part of it. I am part of it. So it was angry through me. The same thing happened in Fallien once."

There was a brief silence, as though Seth wasn't sure he believed her, but that wasn't really a concern. She'd put it as well as she could understand it. “How long was I out?”

“A whole day. I had to feed the little firestarter twice,” Seth grouched.

“I’m sure he appreciates it.” And how funny was it to have a baby who could tree a ghoul?

Karuka reached into her satchel and grabbed her vlince traveling outfit, shoving Taodoine back inside. “Let me put on some real clothes and we can be out of here. We’ve a long journey ahead of us, none easier for having to stop here and there to feed you.”

Seth leaned against the tree she stepped behind, letting her have the privacy to change. “Where are we going next?”

“I promised to help you get to rest, didn’t I? We’ll find your other weapons and get you settled in peacefully.”

“Peace…” Like his soul could ever know peace. “I don’t even know where the lung poppers might be, Karu.”

“But y’ do know someone who can help you find them.”

Seth blinked. Her slip had been momentary, but unmistakable. Hopefully she wouldn’t descend back into the gibberish she’d used on a boat long ago, but if she could regain everything she once was, then maybe he wouldn’t do completely wrong by her, after all. Maybe he wouldn’t completely destroy every life he touched.

Karuka emerged back onto the branch, gathering her belongings. She paused for a moment when she hefted her spear. "A weapon of great consequence... I guess it is about time this weapon had a name. Consequence... I think it's fitting."

With that, she started the long climb back to solid ground. Fiorair knew she had a path of her own she needed to travel, and she knew that it would always welcome her back to its confines. For now, though, she finally wasn’t wandering aimlessly anymore. And though there were no gods to guide her, it was good to finally have a direction and a goal.

Out of Character:

Karuka is now Bound to Dheathain: While in the wilds of Dheathain, she is highly attuned to the life around her and the mood of the land. In extreme circumstances, she can bend the land to her will.

Workshop:

Karuka - 1,907 EXP - 143 GP
Dissinger - 2,028 EXP - 117 GP

EXP & GP Added!