In Midnight

[septin]

Dintathra’s crossbow exploded into shards of wood and metal, a large chunk of it glanced off of Septin’s chest causing him to stumble back with a grunt of pain.

Will they finally just shut up and let Henri lead the way to Kitiara?

Septin’s thoughts were frayed with worry and frustration at how long the simple task of packing up and following Falcia was taking. Dintathra it looked was about to try and kill the human Henri had called Rudger. The asur hoped they had fun and rubbing his chest where the chunk of wood had hit him he returned to preparing to ride out.

Thankfully it seemed Henri was able to bring some sense back to the two of them, a sharp word about the dangers of the Drakwald and the stupidity of staying around to see if any of them felt the shadow magics or heard Rudger’s pistol. Henri finally emerged and Septin managed to break camp and ready Lilthya as well. They headed off into the Drakwald with Henri leading them.

Please be safe...

***

Tracking Falcia with Henri, Dintathra and Rudger was anything but pleasant. Rudger was constantly spooked and still asked a thousand questions, Septin’s curt answers and Dintathra’s deadly glares at him didn’t appear to satisfy him. Henri was too busy trying to follow the trail of magic to talk to anyone. This combined with Dintathra’s constant baiting reduced the asur to a tattered thin veneer of calmness within the first hour.

If Kitiara was not lost and in danger druchii.... Septin forced his thoughts away from that tangent. He was better than the druchii, he would not be baited.

Running through his brain in a constant stream were thoughts of what to say when they found her again. What words could the knight say in reply to her demand to be left alone. How should he respond to her shooting out black tendrils and then turning into a flock of birds and vanishing. Even a decade ago he would be hunting her now to kill her.

How did I come to this place? Why cannot it not just be simple. Am I cursed to be tested all my long life....

They continued until dawn. That is when they found her, and Septin lost himself in her beauty.

***

She sat perched on a tree stump, the image of en elven lady. Septin stared. She shimmered with finery fit for a noble of his house. Septin stared. Her features were stunningly beautiful and she wore the same colours he wore. The blue with golden trim and gems winked at him and he continued to stare.

Henri exchanged words with her, Dintathra and Rudger looked stunned and outraged at the same time. He didn’t see or hear any of it, his eyes scanning her face. He knew her face but at the same time he didn’t.

Kitiara... His thoughts trailed off into emptiness as he continued to be stuck, unable to do anything but stare at her changed form. Something he had wondered but never dared image. Falcia as an elf. It was here now, in front of him.

But how?

He managed to come to his senses as she rose with a grace that no human physique could manage and walked to him. She paused a short distance from him and inclined her head to a vine, blooming with flowers grasped a tree in its death throes.

“Walk a little way away?”

A million questions rose to his mind and relief, wonder and puzzelment fought for control. He managed a nod and walked with her over by the dying tree. She spoke softly and even her voice had elven qualities.

“Septin. I... I am sorry for freaking out... earlier.”

A shake of the head from the asur and he replied to her. “Falcia, what is... is... this?”

“It's hard to explain. Dhaos gave me an offer, and I said I would have to talk it through with you before I gave it my answer. It gave me this day as an incentive.”

An incentive? Incentive for what. So this is the work of the daemon within you? If it toys with my heart by changing your looks... He left the dark thought unfinished and instead asked her to clarify with a frown.

“So, this is an illusion?”

'Yes, and no. I don't understand it myself.' She took a deep breath, 'The offer is this. He remains alive, a voice in my mind, and no longer interferes in my life apart from this. In return, I stay like this, and I go with you.' She swallowed again, looking acutely uncomfortable, an odd expression on her new face.

Go with me? In return all we have to do is let it live?

“Which I would like to. My lifespan would be extended, and our... err... fertility would be the same as any other elf.” Septin’s eyes widened as he comprehended what she was saying. A life, with him, the possibility of elven children. Long centuries together to enjoy in peace and love.

A pale blush extended across her cheeks, and her eyes gazed aside into the forest as she spoke as if to herself, “Dreams of such simple things I thought beyond me now.”

Septin’s heart went out to her. I thought them beyond me as well...How I know the pain of thinking you can have nothing but the duty of life.

She closed her eyes and turned back to Septin, her head halfbowed, “So, I guess we await your verdict.” A brief, sad, half-smile. “I always thought whether I lived or died would be decided by a man sat in judgement. I guess I was right.”

The asur looked at her and felt the weight of all his varied obligations come down upon him to stifle him. So many contradictory desires. The knight saviour, destroyer of evil, fulfilling the noble obligation of his kind. There was no room for a deal with a daemon within that role, it could not be allowed to taint the soul of a living being. It was an embodiment of darkness, death and despair...and yet, he loved her.

How can I judge the worth of both?

Septin’s eyes lowered from Falcia’s haunting elven features and stared at the ground, his brain in turmoil, unable to think. He wet his lips, still not sure how to respond. Something he had never expected to be able to have in his life, a life partner, children. Here was the chance for it, right here, right now. He felt his soul teeter at the edge of the abyss.

“Falcia...I...” He swallowed and raised his eyes to her face once more. “You...want this?”

She tilted her head to one side, the expression enchanting, "I... It seems the only way we could... be like that." Her smile tilted into the wry, "It has a price, but... what things do not."

Price, always the price. Can I pay this one....

His hand found its way to her cheek to gently caress it, he gave her a wan smile. “You look good as an asur...” She gave a half smile in return, her eyes closing beneath his touch.

I want this...She wants this. It would be so easy to say yes. Centuries with Kitiara. Septin felt every heartbeat within his chest. He could just say yes and have happiness.

Septin leant forwards till his forehead rested against hers. "So we can leave and live out the centuries together, with our love and children, if we let the daemon stay within you?"

She whispered, "That's what it promised."

Of course thats what it promised. Otherwise, how could the temptation be complete? How I ache for what it offers...I long for it.

His duty lashed at him. How could he think that? It was a daemon. Of course its offer was glorious. It did not change the fact Falcia would be forever infected with a daemon over the long centuries. How could he even consider it? The centuries of happiness would be a lie. Even if he refused it now the thought would gnaw at him until he destroyed the paradise that was offered. He could not live such a life based on a lie and provided by an evil.

With his heart breaking into a thousand pieces Septin knew he could not do it, as much as he burned for it. It was who he was. With the pieces of his heart scattered around the asur knew he had found the right choice. It was the harder path. Yet he would do it. He would be rid of the daemon and have what years with her that he could.

Septin's body shifted slightly and his hands rested on her shoulders. "Falcia...There is nothing I would want more in this world than that dream." He took a ragged breath. "Yet...I-" His voice broke as if in pain. Tears edged there way down his lean face and he continued. “I...do not know if I can live a lie."

Those long centuries. They would be marred by the constant reminder of my weakness and lack of courage. Happiness is nothing if gained by poor means....Is it not? The last thought was desperate for an answer where there was none.

She took in a deep breath, and let out a soft sigh that fluttered against Septin's face, "I understand."

"Please..." Septin blinked through his tears and his voice became hoarse. "Tell me we could live it with no regrets through the centuries. Tell me I am a fool, tell me so I can say yes to the dream."

Give me a reason to be foolish, give me a reason to let go and forget my duties. Give me that excuse!

Her voice was quiet, barely heard, "That is not something I can answer for you, Septin Thalhuin. It never was."

"I know..." Septin's arms went around her in an embrace and for the first time Falcia had ever seen he wept. He wept into her shoulder for a few minutes and then spoke, his voice muffled. "Tell me we will be together until the short dream fades. Please. I cannot forgive myself if I lose you completely because I could not be happy with the perfect dream."

She lifted a hand and placed it in benediction on his head, fingers nestled amongst the locks. "You can escort me to my sentence, Septin. After that, even I do not know."

I will take what I can, though it breaks my soul in the process.

Septin gave a soft sigh of acceptance and after a few moments raised his head once more to give Falcia a gentle brief kiss upon the lips. He took a step or two back and wiped an arm across his face to dry the tears still fresh on his cheeks.

“I will hold you always in my memories like this. The perfect figure of an asur woman.” He gave her a hidden smile. “Yet, I think I have thought of you as one for a long time, I just had not the visual image of it in my mind. You have always been this beautiful to me, I just didn’t realise it.” He offered her a hand as he regained his poise, his walls rising back up to their full height. Only Falcia would see him close as he had been, his heart and soul laid bare.

“Shall we return to our companions, fair lady? We have a long journey still to go as I understand.” His eyes flashed with hidden fire. “We have a daemon who I recall I told to stop interfering to be rid of.”

[Cassandra]

Falcia wrapped an arm around Septin's proffered one, and they paced over towards Dintathra, the facade of an elven woman looking down slightly, almost bashful.

The dark elf eyed them over, a cold glance edged with razor caution, 'Why so glum, Schwarz?' He chuckled under his breath, 'At least you've improved in looks, even with a sad expression.'

Septin shot Dintathra a glance, his lips pressed together as if over a comment. Falcia tilted her head and looked up to meet eyes with the assassin, 'So why did you come out into the deep Drakwald again?'

He rolled his eyes dramatically, 'I promised Aurelia I would seek you out and bring you back, in one piece.'

Septin's arm tightened, pulling Falcia closer as he stared at Dintathra, 'Why would you be promising Aurelia anything?'

The smirk that spread across the druchii's face was almost beautific, 'Because she is my lady. Of course. We do not all fancy the lower races, Septin.' His eyes fell upon Falcia, now cold and full of poison, 'Even the ones that try to hide their filth behind petty spells and sorcery.'

Septin's expression jumped into a snarl, quickly schooled, though his voice was still tense and strained. 'Your what?' He sounded outraged at the very thought of Dintathra having Aurelia as his lady and looked ready to launch into a verbal barrage. However he glanced at Falcia instead and took a deep calming breath. 'It can wait...'

Falcia glanced aside to him and retrieved her arm before it could be further crushed, smiling, 'It is sweet of Aurelia to worry about me so and send her knight captain off after me. She is a credit to her race. And you are a credit to yours, Dintathra. Will you accompany us to the mage, then? I will return to Marienburg afterwards, or more likely, you can transport my corpse back if you have the stomach for it.'

Septin glared at the druchii as Falcia finished. 'If it does happen, I will be returning her to the child, Ilsa, at least and I think I will tell Aurelia some interesting stories.'

Dintathra shot Septin another glare, then seemed to dismiss him from existence, looking over at Falcia instead, 'Seeing as you are safe, however, and yourself, I don't see why we have to go find this mage of yours. Aurelia did want you back alive, after all.'

Septin growled, 'She is going to the mage to get rid of the demon.'

'Why? She is obviously more beautiful with it, and more powerful.'

'Because it's evil.' Falcia could almost hear Septin grinding his teeth.

Dintathra ignored this and looked back over at her, 'As a point of curiosity, why do you look like an elf? I'm curious.' His eyes moved up and down her form, 'Not that I'm complaining, of course.'

Falcia blushed slightly, pale rose decorating her cheeks, 'Dhaos offered us a deal, this and elven lifespan, children... in return for letting it exist. But,' her eyes flickered over to Septin, 'such a deal is pointless without love.'

The druchii glanced back and forth between them, 'Let me get this straight. This daemon inside you promised to turn you into an elf, plus whatever fun gifts you could also get, so you could live forever and be beautiful like us, and settle down with your elven champion. Then the Asur turned it down?' His cold gaze flickered cruelly onto Septin's, 'Tell me, what "evil" has this creature made you commit that led to this decision?'

Falcia blinked, 'Well, it hasn't really-'

'I see.' Dintathra grinned at the high elf, 'So Septin made the choice for you? Because of him you won't get to see Ilsa grow up, see her children, her grandchildren? Because of him you must give up immortality and...' his eyes lingered on her again and a serpent's smile graced his lips, '...celestial beauty?'

Septin growled under his breath, 'Happiness at such a price is not happiness at all.'

'But you were the one who made the choice, Sir Septin.' He used the title mockingly, 'And you accuse me of selfishness. To deny such a deal, just because of your pride, well-'

Septin's growl turned into a sound of rage and he stepped in front of Falcia, fist lashing out towards the dark elf. Dintathra threw out an arm, knocking the blow aside and dodging neatly to the left. Another low chuckle escaped his lips, as Falcia stood quietly, her eyes downcast and facing the ground. He baited the high elf again, 'Striking out in anger, Septin? I thought you could control yourself better than that.'

His only reply was a glare, the Asur shaking from the tightly held anger written across his face. He grated out, 'At least I didn't use a blade, Dintathra. Now, both she and I have made our decisions, so either accompany us, or leave.'

Falcia looked away into the woods, noting almost mechanically twin white butterflies circling each other nearby. I guess this form isn't needed anymore, Dhaos. You can return me to normal I suppose?

Of course. The tone is sad, regretful, a mirror of her own.

Her form seemed to shimmer, similar to the ravens, and then Falcia stood there, adorned once more in black leather and blades. Her hair was still loose, flowing around features that now seemed plain in comparison to the aching beauty of their forerunners. Wrinkles that were ignored before now stood out in stark relief and contrast, bedecked at the corners of her eyes and lips and between her brows. Her hair was less lustrous, her step less smooth, her movements more awkward. She glanced over towards Henri, speaking quietly, 'I guess I am done now, too, Henri.' The vow binding him. Is there any way to break it? He cannot allow me to go to the mage and not suffer the consequences of it should I die. It is not his fault.

There was a thoughtful silence, I will... see what I can do. You will all need to sleep though. I need dreams to speak with my Lord directly, as does the mage.

Her eyes widened slightly as she stared off into space, ignoring entirely the bantering going on behind her back between the two elves wrangling like children about her fate. Dintathra was still putting forth reasons she should see the daemon as a boon and return home, while Septin was becoming more and more irate and going back to the same reason. It was evil. It had to die. He believed it trumped all the other reasons. It was simple, seen in black and white. Dhaos was evil. He had to die.

She pulled her mind back from the detour, Obscuras? Directly? A cold shiver flooded her frame.

It'll be alright. The words didn't comfort.

Henri's voice finally cut through the argument, which had spread the meaning behind her elven appearance to common knowledge as the two yelled at each other. 'That is quite enough! As much as going back would be delightful, and Sigmar knows I could use a soft warm bed again, if Falcia is staying here and going to meet this mage, I am going with her. You can all do what you want, as long as you do it quietly. Or do you want to bring a beastman herd down on us?'

Septin gave up on the druchii and walked over, taking her hand and squeezing it warmly, smiling at her. 'I will go with her as well. Wherever she goes.' She smiled sadly, her thoughts still tangled with the tarnished, broken dream.

She looked a little older, for an elf. A maturity to her eyes perhaps, a deeper blue and a surety to her movements. She had discarded the gown for more practical clothing, trews and a tunic belted over a blouse, tucked in boots of elven make. Her hair, bound into an intricate styling it had taken almost four months to master, flew in the wind of the mountain home. She knelt on rich grass near the keep's front entrance, laughing. Her laughter pealed like bells and rang in the sky that stretched deep and azure over the heavens. Other details began to emerge, the keep's stout walls and battlements, nestled among the rocks of the mountain side. Fresh crisp air, heavy with snowmelt, titillated the senses.

Septin stood beside and behind her by a little way, a more restrained smile on his face as he watched both her and tableau in front of them. Love shone in his eyes, though beneath it there was always a thread of sadness, of regret, of doubt. They both had learnt to ignore it, long ago. She had buried hers so deep sometimes she wondered if it was just a memory.

Before them stood a little boy, a frown on his face and an apple balanced on his hand, proferred towards the young colt that Septin had managed to collect and breed. White and red splotches covered most of its frame, with one large red splotch on its head. Septin had christened it Salawey, or "strawberry eater" after it had managed to get into the fruit garden and devoured the season's crop. 'Perhaps we should have tried to get some strawberries,' remarked Kitiara with a smile back at Septin.

Their son glanced back, his expression serious and determined despite his parents' laughter. The colt still regarded him with no little suspicion, despite the offered food. It took one trembling step towards the young man, who kept perfectly still as his father had instructed. Lowering its head, finally the young stallion began to munch at the apple. The boy turned back, pride shining on his face. Dark brown locks fell into eyes the same colour as his mother's, dark with flashes of vivid blue, but it was Septin's fierce smile on his lips. Kitiara smiled, while Septin merely nodded in approval.

Their son lifted up a trembling hand and touched the colt's face gingerly, who accepted the caress with good grace, until the apple was gone and he was petting the young horse and laughing. Septin looked over to his wife, murmuring, 'Now they will grow up and train together, and when he is ready, Salawey will carry him over these mountains on his adventures. It is the Ellyrian way.'

Kitiara smiled back at her husband, 'It is a good way.'

She blinked, bending half over as she pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling sick. Septin glanced down, the two images of him, the second a little older, a little more steady, coinciding for a second and them fading away to leave only this one. He squeezed her hand again, frowning in concern, 'Falcia? Are you alright?'

She gritted her teeth, sending a wordless accusation at Dhaos for the vision. He replied in the same vein, protesting his innocence. 'I'll be alright, just a little queasy.' She straightened up, 'We should move quickly now. Then Dintathra and Henri can get back to their warm beds as soon as possible. We may as well travel until it gets dark again now. Henri, you're slowing us down, so pick someone to ride shotgun with, or summon a shadow steed. I don't really care. Let's just go.' She needed to be on the road, she needed to be doing something.

She needed to be able not to have the time to think.

[Kai-Loq]

Henri opens his eyes to absolute blackness. A sharp intake of breath tells him the air is freezing, a couple of moments more tell him the ground is equally so. He crawls to his feet, back aching and old knees popping. He looks around.

‘Oh. Here we are.’

The knowledge that he has woken up into a dream is instantaneous, yet not reassuring. He remembers the last dream that was like this one. Months ago, yet it still stands out in his mind with absolute clarity. The blackness. The empty, starless nighttime sky. The trees, bereft of leaves and covered in frost. Not the Drakwald he fell asleep in – but the Drakwald all the same. He recognises the place. Overgrown cottages and hovels, trees bursting through their thatch roofs. The old watermill near the small brook, now frozen solid. In the distance, the old decrepit graveyard – empty of bodies, headstones shattered. Nell’s village. Except it’s not real. Dreams seldom are. But this one… maybe this one too is real enough to be wary of it.

Henri starts walking, his arms beating his chest to ward off the bitter cold. A bitter smirk forms on his face as he remembers the creature that would be nearby. After all, this dream isn’t of Henri’s making. He knows that much.

The thing is sat by the stream, a fishing rod made of ice in one hand, the line entering the frozen water in a gesture of futility. It’s wearing the same human shape, even the same clothing. The same broad-rimmed hat hiding its eyes. Henri is glad for it. He has no desire to see those eyes again. He walks straight for the dark stranger, eager to be done with this dream and his business here. Then he notices the other man, crouched on the other side of the stream, idly flicking rocks at the frozen surface which bounce and roll to a stop. The sound is strangely sharp in the cold air. The man (if that’s what he is, which is doubtful, the old mage thinks) is incredibly handsome – enough so to make a shiver run down Henri’s spine as he quickly takes in his slender, feminine looking face with the short, dark hair and the pale skin. His clothing is simple yet elegant – shirt, trews, knee high boots, gloves… all in black, of course. Henri would expect nothing different in this dream. He starts walking again, stopping a couple of yards away from the two beings sitting near the stream.

'So. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume that I haven't been keeping close enough attention, then? Haven't done enough to try and dissuade her?'

The young man speaks quietly. ‘Hello there, Henri. I suppose introductions should be made at this point. Right. I'm the daemon in Falcia's head. She asked me, ever so nicely, to talk to my Lord,’ he gestures to Obscuras, who is regarding Dhaos with an odd smile on his face, ‘and convince him that you shouldn't be held accountable for her one-way charge into oblivion that she's so keen on.’

'That's very kind of you.' Henri's voice is as cold as the air around him, and his eyes are narrow. The daemon. He should have known. 'And what shall be the price of this kindness you're granting me, daemon?'

The man with the hat smiles and speaks instead. ‘You forgot to give him our names, Dhaos Khadhar'phak. And mine is Obscuras. As for prices, what are you willing to offer?’

Henri laughs, loud and clear. 'What am I willing to offer for my freedom, my life, you ask? Why... what wouldn't I give for that. But to you...' his voice goes cold again '... a creature that deals in lies and deceit? Hm. What would I offer you?'

He wanders closer, and sits down on the riverbank - far enough from Dhaos and Obscuras, yet close enough to watch them both. A sudden thought hits him, as if by instinct. It’s a dark thought, one that hasn’t crossed the old mage’s mind in a long time. But old reflexes die hard.

'Another life, perhaps?' He says, flatly, surprised at how easy the suggestion comes to mind. Obscuras speaks quietly. ‘What sort of thing did you have in mind?’ A smirk appears on his lips, ‘You are not going to sacrifice the elves are you?’

Dhaos looks aside and mutters, ‘I wish.’ Henri smiles briefly and bitterly, then looks at Obscuras, his expression blank.

'I don't care for the elves, but I will be needing them in the days to come. But... after that, well...' He shrugs 'Unless you have another life you'd like. Another offer.'

Obscuras chuckles, ‘I don't accept blood sacrifices, Henri Muller. Souls in service, willingly given.’ He glances over at Dhaos, ‘And acts of service, unknowingly or willing sworn. Worship, of course, is always welcome. In return I promise gifts and protection, much as the Lords of Bretonnia to their vassals. But if none of those appeal to you, then I will offer you a shard of forbidden knowledge. And in returning for accepting that burden, you will be free of your vow. It is your choice what you wish to use to renege the debt.’

Henri looks at Obscuras with a frown, his confusion apparent.

'So if I understand you correctly, you wish to grant me knowledge in return for lifting my vow? Somehow, I thought that was not how a trade worked.'

Dhaos looks back. ‘Deep knowledge of daemons and Chaos can be dangerous to know, shadow mage. He offers you power and risk in the same package.’

Henri nods. 'Very well. I have a question for you, in that case. Up to you to decide if it's one you wish to answer.' He stands up, and looks at Obscuras and Dhaos in turn. His eyes then return to Obscuras. 'What is your purpose with her? Why her?'

Dhaos slides to sit on the ground, and his eyes close. One knee bent, an arm around it between him and the other two. Obscuras just turns to look at Henri, his brim no longer hiding the horror of his empty eyes. ‘There are many paths to tread. When one comes to a crossroads, one decides based on what they know which path to take, which will lead them to safe harbour.’

He lowers the fishing rod, putting it neatly beside him. ‘Imagine how more complicated such choices become if you can see down those paths, glimpses only of what may lie beyond them, and the next crossroads, and what may lie down those paths. Imagine, again, further, that you must guide children down this road, squabbling amongst themselves. More often than not your whispered warnings are ignored and instead they wander into dark forests and deep caves and are lost. Those I guide now travel roads leading to grim fates, as do I, should I not change my course. She is one of the ways that is possible, to become a mother and guide to the lost children. To avoid our vanishings into oblivion.’

Henri smiles faintly. 'Well now. Very... eloquently put. Thank you.' Obscuras merely inclines his head.

'So that's your answer, is it? That's the knowledge I'll be taking away from here in return for my freedom?' Henri's voice betrays no emotion - though there is a flicker of disgust and anxiety in his eyes. Already this transaction is tiring him, making him angry. Obscuras raises an eyebrow.

‘No. That was merely an answer to your question.’

Henri chuckles, a bitter laugh that lacks any trace of humour. 'Oh, so that one was for free.' He thinks for a while. Then his eyes shift to Dhaos, and a small smile spreads across his face. 'Very well then. Perhaps a better question to serve in our bargain. Who did this deamon belong to before he came into your service - and how does his old master feel about you luring his disciples away from him?'

Obscuras chuckles. ‘I am amused mage. It is a very specific shard of knowledge I wish to impart to you, not an answer to your question. But I shall answer this one nonetheless. Or rather, Dhaos, why do you not. You have more skill with plain speech than I.’ Dhaos looks up and nods, looking at Henri with a mix of wryness and fear.

‘My name when I was alive was Fernand Hoenardt. When I was alive I served the Dark God Obscuras, and when I died I became a daemon in his service. I have no old master, nor have I been lured away from anyone else, unless you count my initiation into the Church of Sigmar when I was but a babe.’

Henri is still smiling, even after the daemon’s explanation. 'Seems my confusion granted me more knowledge than if I had understood your purpose straight away. But enough of this. You wish to impart knowledge upon me - let's hear it.' Suddenly, Henri's smile is gone, his face gone blank once more.

Obscuras rises. ‘Very well. Listen well to my tale, Mage. In the ancient days, four Gods of Chaos stood. Their names were Khorne, lover of slaughter, Tzeentch, master of change, Slaanesh, giver of pleasure, and Nurgle, bringer of pestilence. Arrayed against them were four Gods of Law. Solkan, lord of vengeance, Arianna, keeper of knowledge, Alluminas,’ his lips curl into a sneer, ‘brother of light, and Obscuras, king of shadows. For a time there was balance, until Obscuras became jealous of his brother's light, and spoke with him, asking upon the reason for their varying responsibilities. Where his brother dwelt in perpetual light, he was drenched in eternal nothing. But Alluminas did not know. He went then to Arianna, to ask her for her knowledge, but though she knew, she did not give it. Last, he went to Solkan, who spoke to him and told him simply that it was his nature. He was the empty night, and hunger was his birthright.’ Obscuras' eyes seem to pull Henri closer, ‘And he knew the truth. In his anger and his jealousy he left his brothers and his sister to Chaos. He shifted the balance of power, and as a result of his actions, Tzeentch imprisoned Arianna in a cell of crystal from which even a God could not escape. In his anger and his jealousy, he attacked Alluminas and his worshippers attacked Alluminas', both dwindling in power as a result, and both leaving Solkan alone to face the Dark Powers.’

A slow smile appears on his face. ‘The end was imminently predictable, and the four Gods of Law were forgotten from the myths and legends of Man, on the whole. In in the space, others arose to take on our mantle and rebuild from the ashes of our failure. Less powerful, but more numerous. But for those who seek me, I am yet here to be found. Waiting.’

Henri remains silent for a long time before speaking again, and when he does so, his voice is soft and quiet, little more than a whisper.

'You imparted your knowledge, and I shall remember it well. I might use it. I might not. But one thing is certain. We are finished now, you and me.' He looks at Dhaos, his expression unreadable. 'Enjoy your last days inside the head of my leader, daemon.'

Dhaos doesn't reply, still looking away. Obscuras smiles slowly.

‘Henri, have you ever wondered how I could deal with Asrail so easily?’

Henri remains silent. He remembers the powerful shadow mage all too well. He also remembers how he was ripped from the body of the vampire and cast down into darkness unknown. Obscuras tilts his head forwards again, so that the brim of his hat covers his eyes.

‘He was a shadow mage. And I am the Lord of Shadows.’ A sliver of a grin. ‘Nighty night.’

[Cassandra]

He held her close, cradled against his chest like a frightened babe, her face pressed into his cold flesh while her tears soaked into his clothes. Her sobbing filled the dark desert, echoing from the endless sky, her sorrow populating the heavens with thick and roiling clouds. Her pain breathed life into the lightning that danced between them and studded the endless black desert with flashes and strikes, thundering into the ground.

He held her closer, shielding her eyes from the chaos she created within her dream, sat on a jagged rock among the rolling sand. Slowly her sobbing quietened, turning to sniffing and soft mewling sounds. As if in answer to this insignificant release, the clouds opened and rain cascaded down, turning the dunes to coal-black mud. Dhaos watched as the water struck the ground with enough force to send up ricochets of liquid and mud. The rain soaked his hair, flattening it to his skull, wet his clothes and filled his boots. Falcia turned her head a fraction to avoid the waterfall swiftly growing down his chest, soaked through already. For a while, the only sounds was the drumming of the rain on the barren deserts.

Finally she spoke, her voice hoarse, 'Do you think the rain will bring forth desert flowers?'

Dhaos glanced down, 'No. Perhaps, it depends on you. This is your dream.'

'Did you speak to your Lord?'

'Yes,' Dhaos looked long into the distance shrouded by mist, his eyes scrunched up against the rainfall, 'Henri has been released from his vow. You can go to your death freely now.' His voice was sad, resigned.

'Good.'

The rain fell and fell, eventually drowning the desert and filling it with water. Dhaos watched the flood rise, until they sat on a rock in the midst of a black lake. The water rose and rose, the rain still creating thousands of ripples as it thundered down in a ceaseless fury. He watched as the first rivulets of water lapped over the top of the stone, as the water, cold as ice, pooled around their ankles. He whispered a warning to Falcia as it reached their hips. She simply curled up tighter and closed her eyes.

He watched as the water rose, passing over his chest and Falcia's face. He looked away and closed his eyes, and waited.

******

'I need your help, wizard.' A voice from the shadows spoke, soft and feminine. Tired and weary too, as if at the end of a very long road. There was a quiet echoing quality to it, as if a very soft smooth voice was repeating her words a bare thought after she.

The man chuckled again, softly and deeply, 'That's what they all say, my dear. They think magic can fix their problems, them that don't see it as an excuse to slay those of us who use it. So what problem is it that you have been having? A jilted lover, advancing illness, perhaps you are on the run from the authorities?'

There was silence for a time, and the figure approached slowly, just enough to be seen in the candlelight. The mage could dimly sense at least one other presence nearby apart from the woman, still hidden amid shadows. The dog's growl rose in pitch and volume as she approached, until the mage put a comforting hand on his head. Wrapped in a cloak, her features were difficult to see. A mouth rounded and pale spoke, her breath cloudy even in the warm summer air.

'I am possessed.'

'Indeed.' His keen hazel eyes gazed at her, calculating and incisive, 'Then you must understand that what you wish is most dangerous.'

She paused, and then nodded, 'I understand, wizard. Please help me.'

He glanced into the shadows, 'And you can tell your friends that they may come into the light rather than skulking in the trees.'

A pale smile touched lips too pale. She turned back, as four others slowly appeared from the darkness. An Asur, his eyes tormented and scared. A Druchii, disdainful and bored. A mage, heavy eyebrows concerned. A man, worried and confused. 'My name is Kitiara, this is Septin, Dintathra, Henri and Rudger.' Her words are matter of fact as she speaks her true name. At this end time, such things are not important.

He nodded and rose, picking the rabbit from the spit and feeding it to the dog as he eyed them all. 'Then we shall begin.' He picked up a gnarled staff lying nearby and walked slowly through the trees, Charger following him faithfully, licking massive jowls free of blood. Falcia took the place after the dog, the rest falling in behind without a word exchanged. An air of tense anticipation was thick in the air. Everything that needed to be said had already been said.

Take care of Lilthya for me will you Septin? Henri, please make sure Ilsa is looked after and Nico doesn't corrupt her too much. The Court and Ilsa have an inheritance waiting for them if I don't return within three months, but proof of my death will release it sooner. Rudger, I'm sorry for keeping all of this a secret. Dintathra, please break this to Aurelia as gently as you can and tell her thank you for her worry.

Almost everything.

The physical symptoms had begun shortly after the dream, as if her very soul was crumbling under the crushing depression. Her skin paled, her voice began to echo. Dhaos said that they both were breaking into pieces under the stress. He urged speed. Septin and the others spent less and less time with her, leaving her to her own devices. The look of sadness underlaid with grim determination of the Asur's face was particularly heartbreaking as he glanced over once or twice, but still kept his distance. She wondered if he couldn't trust himself, or if he didn't trust her.

The pale moon silhouetted the stones that rose in a circle from the surrounding wood, no trees within it as if the ring held them back. Runes were carved on all their surfaces, and she could feel a crackle of something in the air. The mage glanced over and beckoned her closer. As she walked between the stones, the air became hard to breathe, tingling down her spine as if unseen watchers were but a moment away. Five manacles were sunk deep into the earth near to the middle of the circle, old stains around them. He gestured to her and she knelt beside them, submitting as he fastened each one around a wrist or ankle, and the last around her neck. Almost tenderly he pulled her hair out from the metal clasp and let it fall down onto her shoulders. The four watchers stood by the tree line, varying expressions painted on their faces. She didn't look at them. She studied a manacle and raised an eyebrow as the glimmer was familiar. Silver. A wry smile touched her lips.


The mage walked over to between two particular stones and took out a pouch. He began to daub symbols on the stones with earth, chanting, waving things. She didn't pay too much attention, closing her eyes as the sense of tension tightened, seeming to lean in on her from every direction, pushing in, making it difficult to breathe. It seemed to go on like that for hours, until suddenly the feeling changed. Her eyes snapped open and she could see pale violet threads, mixed with amber and black, woven into a glorious tapestry around the circle, hanging their ends upon the stones for support. As she watched, she saw the weave tighten, passing through her body.

Agony. She screamed as the pain lanced through her, images of strange things flashing through her mind in no particular order. She sobbed and muttered and murmured nonsence as it unrelentingly pushed at her, cutting her a thousand times. Her voice rang like a bell of torment high into the night air. The noose tightened further, a second scream, one she recognised as Dhaos', lancing through both her mind and out of her throat. Then the torture was so much she could no longer think, simply react to the unbearable pain. She fell to her side, body arching backwards, the restraints keeping her in place and cutting into her wrists. Dark blood spattered the silver manacles as she writhed, seeping down to stain the chains. She could faintly hear shouting from the trees, but it didn't matter. She sobbed as it tightened further, with not enough breath left to scream. Dhaos' pain was a shuddering presence within her, that slowly seemed to solidify as if he was tensing himself for some last desperate plan. She couldn't breathe. Stars began to appear in her vision as her body moved of its own accord, throwing itself against the ground and the chains. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she fell limply to the ground, suddenly loose.

*

It was a maelstrom, swirling against them, buffeting shards of glass, ice, knives. Blood streamed down her arms as she sobbed, arms shielding her face. He crouched over and around her, protecting her from the storm. She could feel his pain, feel the anger, the fear as he took the brunt of it. He was trying to save her.

'I guess.. this is goodbye.' He gritted out beneath a grimace of agony, his handsome face slashed and scarred by the spell, one eye closed and glued shut with dark blood. His body shuddered as it took more punishment mean for her.

She cried, the tears mixing with the crimson on her face, whispering, 'I'm sorry, Dhaos. I'm sorry.'

He reached down and touched her face, 'You have to survive. You'll save us all.' He winced as a long shard of glass pierced his abdomen, scratching her leg as it sliced through his flesh. A short cough brought forth a thin trickle of scarlet from his mouth, and his eyes squeezed shut.

'Dhaos...' Her hands cradled his face and almost tenderly she bestowed a crimson kiss on his forehead. 'I am done with you and Obscuras.' Her face was twisted up into agony even as she spoke the words, seeing his pain before her, feeling cruel to deny him his delusion.

His head fell, 'As long as you are alive, there is still hope.' The whisper was soft, barely heard, but even in the midst of the unrelenting storm it sent a shiver of ice through her.

'So, to deny you and your master, I must sacrifice my life?'

Dhaos opened his good eye a fraction, staring at her, 'Don't. No, Kitiara.'

She whispered, 'I don't want to die.'

He shook his head, 'Then don't. I will protect you, even if I must be destroyed. If... if you wish both of us to live... then... we could ..become one?'

She knew what he meant. The idea repulsed her, she shrank away. He watched her and nodded, 'Then so be it, my beautiful queen. My beloved. Fare ye well.' He leant down, still shielding her and she tasted his dark sweet blood as he kissed her. He lifted away finally, looking at her looking at him.

They stared into each others eyes then, not looking away, as the shards hit home, until finally his gaze dimmed in that strange reflection of relative reality.

His body shivered and collapsed into black sand that melted and merged into the sand of her endless desert.

The storm ceased its barrage.

*

Her eyes opened, she took a deep breath of the cool night air, her skin covered in countless slices and cuts, blood staining the ground around her as she bit her tongue against the maddening sensation of her injuries and the emptiness echoing hollowly within her. She wailed into the night of her loss, of her victory, of her pain. She heard people moving towards her, turning her head slightly she could see the others moving towards her. Septin cradled her body as gently as he could, while Rudger released her from the silver restraints. The mage watched from the edge of the circle, intent. Henri stared at her, still stood up and a little away, while Dintathra simply watched, arms crossed and a strange expression on his face.

Septin lifted her like a babe in his arms, her blood staining his fine clothes. 'You survived,' he whispered.

She wanted to cry, to do something, but she merely leant against him, too weak to do anything. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a weary, hoarse whisper from a throat sore from screaming, 'Because of him.'

She felt his arms tighten against her, and she closed her eyes. She was so tired. So very tired. But she had to keep going, keep living. She smiled, sad.


After all, as long as she was alive, there was still hope.