24 hours after the war...

"This is all you found then?"

"Yes, that's it. Sorry, My Lord." The captain before Verial bowed his head apologetically.

"No need to apologize, Cyrus," Verial said. "This is more than I imagined. And please, you need not call me 'Lord' any longer. That title is now reserved for King Elias."

"Yes, Verial," Cyrus said nodding his head. "I shall take my leave then."

One of the captains of Aleris' guard turned and headed away from Verial who was left standing with a handful of soft, dark gray colored feathers cupped in his hands. Before Cyrus Rose had escorted Soryvnia back to the Villa per Verial's request, he had asked the man in private to locate the body of his son, Kyrian Akilara. This had apparently taken some time and had detained Cyrus. When Cyrus got back to Grand City, just an hour or so before the war had started, he was thrust into duty and was not able to meet with Verial. The entire time though Cyrus had kept the feathers from Kyrian's wings in a small pouch with some hope that after the battle (assuming he lived), he would be able to deliver them to Verial.

Verial knew sooner than Cyrus that the captain was not going to find a body. Much like his mother often felt things, Verial had a nagging suspicion that there was nothing left of Kyrian, save his spirit perhaps roaming the earth or going on to find Elysia. Nevertheless, had he been able to contact Cyrus and tell him to turn around, Verial was glad he hadn't. Finding the gray colored feathers was more than Verial had expected. After all, being as how his son was murdered by a pack of therianthropes, Verial sadly did not imagine much of anything to be found. Angel feathers... now that was something.

After a few minutes of silently staring at the feathers, Verial closed his hands so the remaining pieces of Kyrian Akilara did not fly free from his hands. Verial started towards Hinewai Harbor where he could see smoke spiraling into the sky fueled by the bodies of Aleris' dead. Once Verial reached the large funeral pyre on the harbor, he stood before the flames and cast the feathers into it. As the gray feathers drifted towards the fire and were consumed, Verial took a step back. He watched, like so many others present at the harbor, as the remains of his only kin turned to ash and floated back out to sea.

Perhaps it was the loss of his wings, but as Verial watched the make-shift burial of his son taking place, he felt nothing. There was no sadness or anger to be had over what happened. Kyrian meant a great deal to Verial; the boy was his last living link to Necia and Verial's only son. Still, Verial could not find it in him to shed tears or curse at anything. With everything that had happened over the last thirty-six hours or so, Verial found himself feeling rather hollow and unresponsive inside. Despite the deaths of Kyrian and the Alerian citizens, the judgment cast on him by "rumors" others had heard of his actions and the noticeable fall of Grand City, Verial couldn't muster any emotion at the moment.

Angels were never supposed to lose their wings. It was not meant to happen.

But it did.

Verial turned from Hinewai Harbor after some time and walked back towards the castle's courtyard.


There was nothing but the undeniable blackness of Verial's subconscious. Often his dreams were like this. Verial was born into a family of Dreamers and while he could create any setting his wished to - in his mind or others - he did not. Verial often preferred for dreams to come naturally if that was possible, so more than not his mind was enveloped in a strangely comfortable darkness.

This time, surrounded in that same black void, a young version of Verial about twelve years old and minus raven feathered wings was pushing against a sleeping dragon. The dragon, nearly camouflaged in the darkness due to its obsidian colored scales did not stir. Verial pushed against it with his hands, his back and his legs but the giant slumbering beast did not stir. Not even hitting it across closed eyelids seemed to wake the dragon – Verial's dragon.

"Wake up... wake up," Verial said breathlessly still making an attempt to rouse the dragon with whatever force a twelve year old boy could muster. "I need you."

His dragon had gone to sleep moments before the war to avoid any further catastrophes and now it was not waking. Did it have something to do with Verial's wings being severed? Could he no longer feel the emotion he needed to call on his dragon, to wake the beast from its sleep?

Something was wrong.


After meeting with Elias...

How strange. From the mere mention of Elias telling Verial Deanna was being sentenced to death, a reaction was sparked inside Verial. However small it was, it was more than he had felt in the last few days since the war and since losing his wings. Right now, as Verial walked from the castle (thankfully missing the hell-bent Layla Victorie) the rain pouring over him in buckets, he felt himself finally able to think. Going to Arthuran was something he had not expected; nevertheless it was something he could live with and accept. But Deanna dying...

By the time Verial had gotten back to his tent, he was soaked from the rain. Verial ducked inside the canvas shelter, free from the gloomy weather and started gathering his things. He had come to Grand City with not much to begin with and by the time he was finished all of his things fit into one pack. There was no use in taking lots of things to Arthuran anyway. Being as how the continent was naturally much colder than Eiler - constantly covered in snow - Verial would have to get new clothes suited for the weather of Aleris' frigid lands.

Reaching an arm over his shoulder, Verial gently rubbed at one of the spots where his wings used to be. The loss of his wings was still causing him some pain even though Sahar had helped heal him. She insisted on treating him further, but Verial gracefully steered her in the direction of other wounded soldiers and citizens who needed her help as well. His torso, as a result, was constantly wrapped in bandages, hidden beneath his clothing to prevent the burns and wounds on his back and shoulders from opening back up again. These dressings would have to be changed before he left, thanks to the rain, and he reminded himself to bring a coat along next time he was outside.

After packing, Verial sifted through his things and fished out a small silver key. He let his fingers run over this key a few times in thought and then wrapped his fingers protectively around the key concealing it. An answer was currently held in the palm of his hands, but after everything that had happened, was it the right choice to make?

This... this could change everything.

And so it would.

Politics were always a driving force in any civilization but, Madrin didn't have to like it. Too many nobles had a misplaced sense of entitlement as if blood was the only important thing. He was glad that most of the important officials of Aleris seemed to have the peoples interest at heart unlike Nirdor. The message he received from one of his soldiers mentioned that the Lady of Bariston's airship was approaching Hinewai Harbor. He felt a fool worrying about formalities when the residents needed as much help as possible. However, this was part of his job as well since he was the ranking military officer in Grand city.

First, Madrin headed to the available bathing facilities so that he could clean his body since he had time. He shared the area with over thirty men from commoner to noble seeking much needed cleaning. Madrin couldn't help smiling when he saw such different backgrounds forced to meet in such a vulnerable state. The bathing areas were separated into male and female sections to preserve modesty. The people where holding polite conversations but, when he entered silence fell. Their attention was on the notorious Lord Commander Kir. "Calm yourselves gentlemen, I'm here for the same reason you are so unless someone has a guilty conscious, as you were." They all nodded and began talking again as he grabbed a bucket of warm water and began washing himself by hand on a stone bench. He listened to the softly spoken conversations with undisguised joy.

When done he put on his clean uniform and left his dirty one in the small chest that held his few personal effects in the temporary barracks facility. He insisted on washing his own clothes so that the servants had no need to worry about cleaning all the filth the white fabric accumulated. They had enough work without him adding more. Madrin was inclined to receive Layla in the work uniform covered in stone dust. However, nobles were so prickly about formality he decided to wear a clean work uniform. She could take his lack of formal attire as she liked he had more work ahead. He sent a royal guard to warn King Elias of Layla's arrival. "Make sure he knows I have gone to receive her." The older man saluted and headed towards the king.

Madrin did see a good opportunity in this outcome to let both rulers know what he thought of committing such an unjust act, execution of someone innocent of the crimes that the masses accused her of. He would not have hesitated to kill Deanna himself to save Aleris if she could not be saved. However, Elysia arrived and freed her so murdering her now was just plain wrong. There were several witnesses that knew the truth, the people should know as well. How dare they even consider using Deanna as a scapegoat to sooth mass bloodlust.

His feet carried him faster than he expected so his anger was not under control. All the Bariston guards reflexively reached for their weapons but, left them undrawn for now. Layla and her captain had never seen such rage in him but, Madrin swore to himself they would see more before their meeting with Elias was done. He took a deep breath and hid his naked wrath in an instant. He gave proper bows to both and spoke formally "Welcome Lady Victoire and Captain Ambrose, I shall take you to King Elias."

(Moments after the appearance of Elysia & Elias, and the capture of Sharay.)



Situations, Like People, Could Change In An Instant. One Moment The World Is Under Immediate Threat From A Goddess Hell-Bent On Destruction. Then The Next It Can All Be Brought To A Stand Still By Another Dedicated To The Sanctity Of Life. These Two Extremes Were Both Of The Same Origin – A Need To Change The Course Of Current Events. Both Opposing Forces Had Equal Parts In The Harmony Of Life. No War Without Peace, No Chaos Without Order. But Just Because The Path Of Each Led In A Different Direction That Did Not Mean Their Course Too Couldn't Be Changed. Sometimes All It Took Was A Good Nudge In A Different Direction At The Proper Moment To Shift The Momentum. And Other Times It Required More...

...Much More.

Elysia Had Appeared And Rendered Sharay Powerless. It Would Be A Lie To Say Both Himself And Ameerah Were Not At Least A Bit Curious And Slightly Frustrated. Not Because They Were Denied Some Rendition Of A “Final Battle”, But Because After All That Had Happened It Was Only In Those Last Moments When Those Who Fought For Aleris Were Ready To Do What Was Necessary To Save Their World Were Denied A Necessary Sense Of Personal Achievement.

While The Appearance Of Elysia And The Boy King Was Certainly A Welcomed Event, It Was Not Without An Underlining Feeling Of Bewilderment. The World Was In Shambles, Much Of It Either Falling Apart Or Already Fallen. Hundreds Were Dead And The Sense Of Pain And Loss Was Palpable On The Air. Perhaps There Was A Reason Why It Had Taken So Long For The Powers That Be To Show Themselves And Bring An End To The Suffering – Some Deeper Motive That Only Gods Themselves Could Understand. However, That Did Not Change The Fact That Perhaps Much Of The Damage That Had Been Done Could Have Been Avoided If Only Those With The Power To Stop What Was Happening Had Acted Sooner.

As Far As The Young Man Was Concerned The 'How' And 'Why' Were Meaingless. Elysia Had Come, Sharay Was Defeated, And The Balance Was Once More Being Righted. Ameerah And He Stood Amongst The Rubble And Ruin, Bearing Witness To One God Imprisoning Another. What Could Be Said? What Really Needed To Be Said? Truth Be Told They Could Have Left Quite Easily And Their Lack Of Presence Would've Gone Unnoticed. But When Elysia Handed Off The Soulsnare To Blend And The Man Rifted Away Instead Of Burning The Doll As Instructed – Valorius Knew That It Was Not Finished. It Was Another Loose End Being Created. And If It Was One Thing That He Couldn't Stand If Only On A Personal Level, It Was Loose Ends. Blend Disappeared Through The Portal And The Tear In Realities Fabric Was Quick To Close Behind Him. But Without Thought, The Prince Thrust His Left Hand Forward And Thus Prevented The 'Gateway' From Fully Closing. He Had Only The Time To Cast A Brief Glance Toward Ameerah. No Words Were Exchanged, Just A Look That Conveyed For Whatever Reason – He Had To Follow.

Like Forcing Open A Mostly Closed Curtain His Energy Ran Along The Rim Of The Portal And Opened It To Its Former Tear. He Had Just Enough Time To Step Through, Since He Himself Could Not Create Rifts He Could Only Keep An Already Torn Space Open For So Long Before The Fabric Mended Itself. Once He Was Through It Immediately Shut Behind Him. Ameerah Could Create Rifts, But Without An Idea As To Where In Time Or Space Both Blend And He Had Gone, There Was Nowhere To Create A Portal To. For This Journey She Would Need To Remain Behind.

-----

In the realm of chaos...



Though He Had Never Been To A Fully Chaotic Realm, The Atmosphere Was Not Surprising. The Nexus Chamber Where He Had Spent Most Of His Life Could Be Considered Chaotic Since It Responded To Ones Will To Create What Existed Therein. But That Didn't Mean It Had No Impact On Him. In A World Of Laws Physical And Metaphysical, To Step Into A Place Where Such Rules Didn't Apply Was Counter To The Overwhelming Sense Of Order Within Him. Inside His Being There May Have Existed Chaos (Or Rather The Great -Absence-) But Since He Was Governed Mostly By The Opposite To Chaos It Was Like Being A Foreigner In A New World, And Unable To Speak Its Language. Either Way He Had To See The Matter Through. One Way Or Another There Had To Be Closure.

It Didn't Take Long. Walking A Path That Seemed Ever Changing And Yet Still Leading Him Toward Where He Was Required To Be. Either Someone Or Something Had Expected Him To Follow Blend, Perhaps Even Wished For It. In Only A Few Minutes Time He Found Himself Standing A Dozen Or So Feet From The Follower Of Tempesturo. The Mans Back Was To Him But Judging By The Slightly Hunched Posture He Was Cradling Something, Giving His Attention To It. Nothing Was Said Immediately, Only A Lasting Silence That Seemed To Encompass The Uncertainty Of The Moment. Had Blend Gone Mad? Did Tempesturo Have Other Plans For The Goddess Who Thought Herself Fit To Reign Over Chaos? The Answers Came When Blend Turned Slowly Towards Him, His Very Presence Seeming Solemn – Almost Melancholy.

"I was hoping you would come." Blend glanced at the doll he held with a look of contempt, then lifted his eyes to meet Valorius' energetic gaze. "Do that .. thing you did, to the Gulawrath. Undo this madness. Fix her." Of course, he knew 'fixing' had nothing to do with what Valorius was about to perform. In a way, the man would break her. The distinction was a small one to Blend. In the end, Sharay could be saved. The sailor thrust the soul-snare out to Valorius, his eyes beseeching.

It Would Be A Lie To Say That The Obvious Distress Of The Man Didn't Reach Him. The Words, Like An Adolescent Plea For Help Along With The Mans Eyes Did Have An Effect On Him. For All The Drive Toward Order Valorius Was Not Without Feeling. He Had A “Heart”, And He Had Compassion. Sometimes The Objectivity Of The Essence In Him Was Just Stronger Than The Humanity. But This Time – The Energy Within Didn't Deny The Feelings. He Didn't Reveal The Fact He Was Moved, Instead He Glanced To The Doll While Stepping Closer To Blend. Thoughts Racing Through His Mind As He Approached.

This Was Not A Test. It Was Not Some Obstacle Placed By His Parents To Put Him Face To Face With Who He Really Was, And What He Was Willing To Part With For What He Believed In. This Was Real. The “Soul” Of A God Lay In A Tiny Doll Before Him, And A Man Imbued With The Power Of A God Was Now Asking For His Help In 'Saving' The Goddess Who Had Only Moments Before Threatened To Lay To Waste The World Ameerah And He Now Called Home. Of Course It Seemed A Conflict Of Interest, To Save Not Only What Seeks To Destroy Everything – But Also May Have Been Beyond Saving.

”I...I don't know if it will work. With a living, finite thing, its consciousness is built to endure only one end. Which is why it fractures the mind. But...a God...they have no concept of death, no true life. They simply are. It...."

Blend Said Nothing, And His Look Of Plea Didn't Change. It Was Obvious That No Matter How Slim A Chance There Was At Doing What The Man Asked Of Him – It Was A Still A Chance, And Blend Was Clinging To That. Order And Chaos Had Their Place, But In That Moment Valorius Had To Decide Something For Himself. It Went Against Natural Law, It Went Against Everything His Instinct Told Him. But In Those Brief Seconds That He Looked From Blends Eyes To The Doll, He Had To Ask Himself; ~If Nax can...if Ameerah...why can't she? One chance to change something...one chance to change everything.~

He Nodded To Blend And Reached Out His Right Hand To Take The Doll, No Longer Overcome By Objectivity. ”Alright..I'll try. But, whatever happens..if she is released, if this goes wrong...any of Tempesturo's energy still inside you, you need to use it. She cannot be freed in this realm or any other as she is. We didn't do what we did protecting Aleris just to have delayed its destruction. Agreed?” Blend Nodded Vigorously, Though Whether Or Not It Was Because He Genuinely Agreed Or Simply Did What He Had To Do To Gain The Young Eternal's Assistance Was Anyone's Guess.

Holding The Doll In His Right Hand He Looked To It For Several Moments. To His Eyes It Wasn't Just Bundled Sticks And Twine. There Was A Light At Its Core So Brilliant That Were His Gaze Mortal It Would've Easily Been Blinded. The Energy Contained In Such A Small Vessel Concentrated The Glow, Making It Appear As If A Minor Star In His Grasp. Even Then He Could Feel The Malice Inside. The Rage Trying So Desperately To Break Free. Taking Several Steps Back From Blend He Shifted His Eyes From The Doll To His Left Hand, The Arcs Already Surging Along The Entirety Of The Limb, Echoing The Energies Response To Another. It Was Like Standing On The Side Of A Door, Able To Hear Hell On The Other Side And Knowing That No Matter The Uncertainty – He Had To Open It. His Eyes Closed And He Did All He Could To Steady Himself.

Then, As If A High Diver Opening Their Eyes Before That Final Plunge He Slowly Exhaled And Thrust His Left Hand Down Upon The Doll....

To Put It In A Manner Of Human Analogy It Was As If Having Every Physical Pain, Every Mental Anguish That Could Ever Be Experienced Forced Inside You. It Actually Caused Him To Yell Out As The Sheer Force Of It All Wracked Every Inch Of His Body – Every Corner Of His Mind. Despair Came First, Followed By A Burning That Only Grew Worse With Each Second. Was This What Nax Felt? Was This What Ameerah Fought Every Moment? His Arm Pulsed And Sent Echoes Throughout The Realm Of Chaos As The Essence In The Doll Was Drawn Inside Him. This Was Not Just Some Finite Source, It Wasn't A Soul With A Beginning And End. It Was The Essence Of A God Now Being Pulled Within His Being. The Flesh At The Corners Of His Eyes Cracked And From Those Cracks His Black 'Blood' Began To Seep. The Yellow Glow Of His Pupils Flared Like Fire. The Sight Must Have Been Something Indeed With How Blend's Eyes Widened.

After Several Moments Of That Anguish He Pulled His Luminescent Hand From The Doll, His Body Nearly Wrenching In All The Negativity That Now Filled It. But The Reprieve Was Brief As He Thrust His Hand Back Down, Forcing The Essence Back Into The Doll. Only When He Did It Had Been 'Filtered' Some What, His Will -Forcing- As Much Of The Chaos And Contempt To Remain In Him As He Could While Placing A 'Lightened' Essence Back Inside. And Then Again He Followed The Same Motion, His Hand Pulling Away Only To Come Back Down As The Essence Was Once More Pulled From The Doll.

Again And Again He Did This, Each Time Taking More Of The Overwhelming Despise And Agony Inside Him. Blend Took A Step Forward As If To Offer Assistance, And Valorius' Head Jerked Up To Look Directly At The Man.

”NO. Stay...as...you...are.”

Where As The Gulawrath Had Only Required Several Descents Into Non-Existence, Sharay Required More – Much More. Several Times. A Dozen Times. Soon The Prince Fell To A Single Knee As The Cracks Upon His Skin Had Spread From The Corners Of His Eyes To Claim Much Of His Face. Yet Still He Persisted. He Could Not Have Said What Drove Him. He Couldn't Explain Why He Endured The Suffering So Repeatedly. Was It Pride? Was It Sacrifice? A Need To Be Some Kind Of Martyr? Whatever The Reason He Continued. And Then Finally With One Last Drive Of His Hand Down Against The Doll He Forced The Essence Back Into It. The Last Traces Of Lament That Had Filled The “Soul” Were No Longer Within The Doll, Only The Pure And Untainted Essence Of What An Omnipotent Entity Was Before It Became A “God”.

His Right Hand Trembled As He Reached It Out To Blend. ”T...take it. It...it's done. It's done.” The Ebony Liquid Had Become Like A Mask For Much Of His Face, The Glow Of Yellow In His Eyes Had Consumed Both Iris' And Retina. The Cracks In His Flesh Extended From His Eyes, Down His Neck And Into His Collar. Everything In Him Screamed To Rid Himself Of The Purely Negative Energy. It Wasn't That It Was Too Much – It Was Just Too Much Too Fast. He Was Capable Of Much But Housing A Gods Essence Inside Yourself When Already Needing To Do All You Could To Keep Level With The Energy That Was Presently Inside Was Putting An Unfathomable Strain On The Physical Nature Of His Being. Pain Both Physical And Emotional Told Him To Force Out The Chaos. And He Would Have...If...

Somewhere Deep Within The Pit Of All That Instability And Cold, He Could Feel Something Else. Something – Loving. Deanna. Elijah. The Dead Seed. They Had Left Their Imprints On The Soul Of The Goddess. And No Matter How Strongly The Hate Fought Those Bonds They Could Not Be Broken. It Was Small And Fragile..Oh So Fragile, But They Were There. Like Lone Strands Of Hope Amongst A Tapestry Of Despair. And Because Of Them – He Could Not Just Cast Out The Negativity Into The Ether. If A Goddess Born Of Nothing But Strife And Pain Could Still Manage To Feel Love, Feel Connection To Anything, Than It Couldn't Just Be Cast Away. To Do So Would Be To Turn His Back On The Core Principle That Drove Him. Not The Energy – But His Own Sense Of Right And Wrong...

...That Everything Which Shows Even The Slightest Potential Of Being More Than It Is Should Be Given The Chance To Evolve. To Grow. The Chance His Father, His Mother, Both Ameerah And He Had Possessed. So He Did Not Expel The Hate Now Surging Throughout Him, He Absorbed It Into His Physical Body, Like A Virus That One Could Choose To Let Infect Them. And Like Any Virus The Energy Of His Body Would “Fight” It, Breaking It Down Little By Little Until It Was More Evenly Balanced And Less Dominated By A Single Influence. Such A Filtering Would Take Time Considering It Was A “Gods Worth” Of Malevolence. And No Doubt It Would Take A Hefty Toll Upon Him. But The Same Was True At That Moment Which Was True At The Beginning. He Had To See This Through To The End – One Way Or Another.

Blend Took The Doll From Him But Also Reached Down To Assist Him Up. On Wobbly Legs Valorius Stood With Much Assistance From The Champion Of Tempesturo, Making Sure To Keep His Left Hand From Ever Making Contact With Him. Once On His Feet He Breathed Out A Pained Sigh. ”I...cannot create portals. I have to return to...Aleris. But...before that..I...have to strengthen. Eternelle Lune...it..it's the only place that has what I require.”

Blend Nodded And Assisted Him, Taking Him First To His Home World So That The Young Eternal Could “Heal” His Body. It Was Temporary Reprieve However, But At The Time Nothing More Could Be Done For Him. After That A Portal Was Created That Would Take Him Back To Aleris. He Wasn't Sure If The Formerly Dead Sailor Would Follow Considering How He'd Run Off With The Snare, But He Himself Had To Return. And When He Stepped Through It Was To See That Only Ameerah Remained And The Others Had Left The Room Sharay Had Once Inhabited. Ameerah Looked To Him And Already She Had A Look Of Both Anger And Concern. Anger That He Had Left Without Saying A Word, And Concern At The Turmoil She Could Literally Feel Resonating From Within Him. Before She Spoke Though, She Was Handing Him Back His Sleeve Which She'd Found After His Departure.

”What happened?”

His Right Hand Reached Out, And There Was A Momentary Instinct To Grab Her By The Throat. The Image Of Her Face Causing A Moment Of Both Fear And Contempt From The Chaotic Essence Within Him. But He Forced It Back, Running His Thumb Across Her Cheek.

”It's...a long story.”

It was not long before there was a knock upon Elias' door, the voice behind it announcing the King's latest visitors Ameerah and Valorius. Elias directed them to enter and the door was opened for the Heruin leaders. As soon as they stepped foot into the room, Elias offered them a welcoming bow. For a person who had the appearance of a fifteen year old, human youth, Elias acted as formal and strong as any King in his mannerisms. The kingdom was on the verge of being destroyed completely and it was more important now than ever for Elias to show his people he could take care of them no matter what he looked like on the outside.

"Padishah Ameerah Sultan and Bel Telal Valorius Malku, I appreciate your coming here. I wanted to formally introduce myself now that I have assumed position of Aleris' throne once more. But I did not invite you here just for introductions," Elias said.

As Elias shifted a little, walking around his desk to face Ameerah and Valorius so there was not an obstacle between him and the pair, Elias noticed something in Valorius. Though the duo from Heruin had only been in Elias' presence for just a few minutes, it appeared that Valorius was trying to hide something. His mannerisms - a certain tightening of the jaw and clenching of his fists - showed the man was trying to conceal some sort of pain. Elias took note of this, but did not pry and ask Valorius what was causing him to act as such. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Elias had a thought this had something to do with Valorius' disappearance with Tempesturo's Champion, Blend, but he kept these notions to himself.

"I don't intend to take much of your time," Elias said his emerald colored eyes passing from Valorius to Ameerah. The Padishah of Heruin looked perhaps just as antsy, maybe even impatient. "I wanted to let both of you know that I still intend to stick by Verial Akilara's decision on making you both the leaders for Heruin. There will be no changes to this rule. That being said, although I'm aware Heruin was not attacked by the same army that ravaged Elved and Eiler, I know Heruin is not without its tragedies. From Terra Vale's trek through the continent and the sandstorms that ravaged the lands as a result, I'm positive Heruin has quite a bit to restore as well. You can expect that funds from Aleris' treasury will be distributed to Heruin soon and I leave it up to both of you to decide how the well-being of Heruin will be repaired using those funds."

He'd said a lot in just a few sentences so Elias let out a small breath before continuing on. There was probably much more that they needed to discuss, but as the King of Aleris and as he knew from past experiences, his time was a limited thing, especially in the cases when tragedy recently befalls a kingdom.

"I would also like to thank both of you for assisting in protecting Grand City. While the end damage is overwhelming, it is because of people like the two of you that it will eventually be able to be rebuilt. However big or small a person's part is in the scale of such events, I personally believe every thread that weaves our fates together matters. Therefore, should there be anything either of you need in the future, whether it be for Heruin or yourselves, please let me know. I do not guarantee to be able to fulfill your wishes all the time, but I can promise that I will listen and try."

Blend watched, both horrified and amazed, as Valorius filtered out the dark machinations that Sharay had built within her soul. The process was not without sacrifice, as Valorius' flesh began tearing itself apart from the exertion of energy that possessed the man.

The sailor didn't know what to expect. Until now, he'd seen no weakness in Valorius to make him consider that perhaps this was too much for Valorius to handle. For a frightful moment, Blend was certain the man was going to die a martyr in the effort to save Sharay and perhaps fail in the process. Alien blood poured from the cracks in crippled flesh as Valorius warred with the Goddess within him.

After what seemed an eternity of suffering, Valorius looked up to Blend with glowing yellow eyes.

”T...take it. It...it's done. It's done.”

Relief spread through Blend's stark features. There was no doubt he owed Valorius a favor. Blend had a hunch they'd see each other again, so long as Valorius survived this ordeal. Whatever energy he had consumed from Sharay was now contained within his own body, and already Blend could notice the telltale signs of an internal struggle.

Gods below, he thought to himself as he helped Valorius to his feet. I hope he doesn't go on a killing spree after this. Deanna we could handle..

--

Once Blend had returned Valorius to Aleris, he remained in Chaos to consider his next course of action. The soul snare containing Sharay's refined soul rested in his right hand, and he stared at it thoughtfully.

Good and Evil. Life and Death. Creation and Destruction. Order and Chaos.

The cosmic balance, some might call it. Blend wasn't sure what to make of such issues, but they seemed to define his very life. Regardless of how hard he tried to break free from such binding constraints, the world around him fought back with equal force.

Death had been the element that claimed him for so long. If what Fingers and the Almeddans said was true, which seemed undeniable, Blend was once Silenti's puppet. He had no memories of his actions then, and frankly had no desire to reclaim them. He could imagine easily enough what an Avatar of Death might do. He had seen it firsthand.

Sharay had demonstrated perfectly what that destructive aspect was capable of. Her vision of death had brought horrendous warfare to Aleris. She had stoked the fires of Djarin's Revelations to spread a brutalized version of Chaos across the realm. She had raped Aleris, Verial, and the essence of Chaos itself.

Well, that's all over. Blend stared at the crude doll in his hand, questions buzzing through his mind. But I wonder.. is there anything left in there? Can I talk to her? Can she be freed? Can she be saved?

Such questions would be answered in their own time. First, he had a few more pressing issues. Delicately placing the soul snare in the pouch at his hip, Blend set off through Chaos to find his friend Fingers and the old woman Agatha.

--

36 hours after the war...

Seven Almeddans, led by their bandaged captain Jasker Ellins, marched out of the Grand City. They were careful to make quite the show of the Evincan banner, a howling wolf on a field of green, as it waved above the group. Behind them, two villagers and an ox worked a cart filled with Almeddan bodies.

Forty Almeddans had marched north from the Ripping Gate when this all began. Slightly over twenty were killed in the fouled ambush on Deanna's army. The Grand City took less lives, with only eight falling to the battle. However, three Almeddans had been left behind in the care of healers, for the arcane energy that Valorius commanded had left their minds obliterated.

In spite of these losses, the day was considered a victory. They had established peaceful ties with the authorities of this realm by partaking in the attempt to repel Sharay's minions. They helped kill Silenti, by leading the god out of Almedda so he became vulnerable. They also gleamed valuable information about the realm, collecting books and information freely during their brief occupation of the city.

For a force of forty men, their results were astounding. The Almeddans were empowered by this knowledge. When they returned home, they would be hailed as heroes, slayers of gods and bringers of prosperity.

The banner of Evinco waved proudly above the seven battered men as they faded off into the horizon, heading south away from the Grand City.

--

"I was looking everywhere for you." A deadly young man stared at his sibling. A leg bone was in his right hand, and he glanced at it hungrily before turning his gaze back to the girl cradling a baby in her arms.

"Did you help Father?" The girl asked. Like all Dead Seed, she was growing rapidly. What took months for humans was taking her hours.

"No. Mother told me to leave. She said I would die."

"Oh..." The girl studied the child in her arms. The infant's skin was an unnatural black, deep as midnight, and a pair of golden eyes stared up at her surrogate mother. "She's getting hungry."

The boy shrugged. "We'll have to find her food. But not here. They are still looking for us."

"Shh, don't talk so loud. You'll make her cry."

The boy lifted the bone in his hand as if to throw it, then thought better of it. "Let's go."

And just like that it was over. She didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed. As it was the Gods of Aleris had finally shown themselves, at least one of them, and had smacked down the would be Goddess of Chaos, restoring the true king of Aleris in the process. Elysia might be late to the party but at least she showed up with a bang. Deanna was being carted off to the dungeons per the restored king's orders when Tempesturo's champion decided he needed to further play the hero. Had her attention not been on Deanna she might have noticed what Blend intended, might have been able to stop him, something...maybe not. Either way it didn't matter because she didn't see it in time and before she knew it he was gone, the soul snare in hand in the hopes he could redeem the bitch goddesses soul.

And Valorius followed him through. He'd turned her way, their eyes meeting, and she knew in an instant that he intended to go after Blend and before she could stop him, without even so much as an explanation, he had followed Blend, the portal closing behind him. She'd taken a single step forward, her hand rising as if to halt his departure, but he was gone.

”Son of a bitch!”

Not a single damn word, he was just gonna go hurling himself through random portals without a single care to where they let out. Alone. Yeah yeah, she knew he could handle himself, but that wasn't the point dammit! Instant anger burned in her diamond clear eyes, unmistakable in spite of the mask that hid the upper portion of her face. Seeing several guards nearby begin to give her concerned glances she got herself in check, recognizing the majority of the anger had to do with the fear invoked by Valorius abrupt departure and her inability to follow him wherever he had gone. He was still alive, she could sense that, but there were worse things than death.

No one else seemed concerned by Blend's sudden disappearance with the soul snare and business continued on in spite of it. The Alerians had more important matters to see too and as others began to bustle about, seeing to Elias' orders, she began to pace the small space, waiting for Valorius to bring his ass back. After several long minutes of prowling the room like a caged wolf she began to feel it, the pain, the struggle, and knew it was all coming from Valorius, whatever he was doing. Sensing it all as it occurred, with no way to help or even see what was happening, only put her further on edge.

How long did she wait there, pacing the area in front of the bedroom that had been the scene of Verial's downfall? She didn't know, didn't care, time moved differently in other realms, she knew that better than most. A lot could happen to Valorius in what would only seem to be 15 minutes to her. Finally...finally he returned! Usually she would unleash the anger that had had plenty of time to build up in response to her growing concern, but she didn't. She did want to know what had happened, though, asked the second she was close enough to him to do so, her eyes panning over him as if to see for herself that he was alright. Physically he was okay but there was something..other. Something beneath the surface that wasn't the same. She'd offered him the sleeve he'd left behind having found it in the course of her pacing, and as he accepted it she felt the sudden surge of malevolence, felt the inborn desire to attack her, and her eyes flared slightly in response. Leaning forward she peered into his eyes though it seemed after a moment that she wasn't looking at him but through him, even into him, and she saw something in there that didn't belong and her gaze narrowed. Though he hadn't explained what had happened yet she had a hunch and as he ran his thumb over her cheek she smiled slightly.

”If she ever gets another body..I'm kicking the shit out of it,”she said, showing more emotion in that one sentence than she had in weeks. It was her first thought to take him back to their holding in Heruin where she could make sure he was truly alright but he felt they should remain in Grand City for a while longer and recognizing the wisdom in that decision they sought out a more private place where she could help him recover. It was in that very location where King Elias' emissary found them as she fed him soul orb after soul orb like they were candy, Valorius recounting what had happened in the process.

Though annoyed at the summons it had nothing to do with Elias himself so when they were admitted to see the King later that day she was careful to keep her emotions in check. She watched the boy king walk around the desk to face them as he spoke, thanking them for coming and going on to explain that he had no intentions of changing Verial's decree that she rule Heruin while Valorius protected it. There was no reaction to the fact that Elias was only fifteen. At fifteen she too had been thrust into the role of ruler of an entire realm and, though her situation had been only temporary, she knew what a fifteen year old could do when it was necessary and had no delusions that his younger age would make him an ineffectual king.

The King spoke of Heruin and the things that needed mending, things that were indeed on her to-do list as the new Padishah of the continent, and when Elias finally stopped speaking after thanking them for their help with the battle itself she spoke, the hard won diplomacy learned from her mother rising to assist her.

”You are welcome, King Elias. I assure you, we will undo the damage done to Heruin and, hopefully, it will thrive. We will assist with the funding of the rebuilding where we can. I understand there is much to be rebuilt on the other continents.”

There were supplies and what not that could be imported from Eternelle Lune as well as other locations visited regularly by her crew. That was not to say they would never need the assistance of the Alerian treasury but they could help lesson the burden somewhat.

”You've got a lot to do, King Elias, so we won't keep you longer than is necessary. Unless we are needed here in the city we will return to Heruin and get to work there.”

“You did what?”

One of the few remaining Captains in the Alerian guard, Noah, stared at the young dungeon sentry in utter disbelief. He had his hands full the past couple of days, and honestly this situation that presented itself right now was the last thing he needed on his already full plate.

The guard, Zach…Zeck? Noah was almost positive the kid had a weird Z name. The Captain couldn’t remember his name (after a while all faces tended to look alike to him), shifted uncomfortably under the bug eyed glare from his superior officer, obviously distressed upon having to explain his actions.

“I…uh…bashed her head against the bars.”

A long sigh was heaved as Noah, having served nearly half his life in the Alerian Guard, pulled an empty crate over and sat down heavily upon it. He rubbed at his graying beard and glanced toward one of many cells that filled the castle dungeon. Presently all were empty, save one. A lone woman sat slumped upon the stone bench that lay against one side of the wall, her eyes opened but clearly vacant. A nasty gash decorated her left temple and blood that was long dry ran the length of her face. As it was, the wound had clotted, but the woman remained as still as the bench she sat upon.

Captain Noah closed his eyes and prayed for a pint…or twelve. The dungeon guard, (Zane?) was fairly new to his position, and after eight hours on the job, the youngster looked about ready to defect to the Hyperborean Mountains. Sweaty and stressed, (Zayden?) swallowed hard as he paced back and forth, and began his explanation for his actions.

“Earlier this morning I began my shift. Not long before Commander Kir and that vampire Commander from Bariston brought the uh…prisoner in. She was out cold. Commander Kir requested a healer to take care of the bitc-umm..err,” the sentry cleared his throat and corrected himself immediately when his Captain frowned, his eyes narrowing at the novice guard’s crude choice of word. “…woman’s injuries. Though why, I don’t know. Isn’t she scheduled to be executed?”

Noah relaxed and shrugged. “From what I was told, yes. If the Commander wanted her healed, that is his business.” Once more he glared at young (Zion?) with those icy blue orbs. “I trust you did not question the Commander’s decision, son?”

“Oh no!” The sentry, barely out of his teens with slight fuzz above his upper lip, held out his hands quickly. “No way! I’m not an idiot, you know.” The Captain arched a thick hairy brow, debating that highly, but was kind enough not to comment. “Sure. Go on, boy.”

“Right, so uh, anyway, they did their thing and left. She was still out, so I went into the main area and another buddy of mine stopped by, so we chatted a bit to pass time.” He paused then and shivered, as if cold and rubbed at his arms. The Captain regarded him curiously, noting the young man (Zed? Zev? Damn, what was this kid’s name?!) repeatedly glancing at the unmoving woman from time to time then at the lock on her cell, as if reassuring himself she could not break free. “Hey, uh….Zavior…err…”

“Landon.”

“Come again?”

“Landon, my name is Landon, not Zavior.”

Captain Noah laughed suddenly. “Ok kid, sorry….for some reason I thought your name…you know what, never mind. Go on.”

Landon the Sentry cast one more look toward the woman before continuing. His tone had lowered considerably. “She went crazy, sir. I mean total batshit crazy. Like I said, me and my buddy were talking about uh…stuff…,” Landon blushed, not wanting to admit the conversation was about a rather lovely dark haired woman with honey colored eyes he had noticed the other day, and was rather smitten by her. “…and he left. Not long after that, I heard it sir. The screaming.” The boy trembled again, goose bumps visible on his arms. “I jumped, you know? Ran over to her cell and there she was, awake and just screaming. Screaming and crying. Sobbing really.” He looked at her once more and shook his head, his hand subconsciously dropping to the hilt of his sword he recently acquired after this disturbing incident. “Not sure what happened when she woke up, but Gods! It was awful! She was clutching at her head and shrieking and crying. Began throwing herself about her cell too, hitting at the bars and the door. She didn’t say anything I could recognize, just that terrible sound.” Landon sighed then. “I did try, sir. I kept yelling at her to shut up, to stop, but she wouldn’t. Like she didn’t hear me, or didn’t want to. Just kept on screaming. I threatened her again, and she ignored me. Finally I…opened the door and went inside. She paid no attention to me, like I wasn’t even there. I didn’t know what else to do…so…,” He trailed off then, his shoulders sagging. “I couldn’t take it anymore, sir.”

“So you slammed her head against the bars to what, speed up her execution?”

“No! Just to shut her up! And um, twice. She didn't go down the first time.” Landon admitted sheepishly.

The Captain stood then, his features calm despite the ire he felt rising. “You went inside her cage and smashed her head against the bars twice. A crazy woman. You did this? Alone? Unprotected?”

“I didn’t know what else to do! It was freaking me out! Screaming and hollering like a banshee!”

Noah sighed. “I understand son, but you have to see it from my position. Commander Kir did not want her mistreated, whether she is to be put down or not.” The Captain reached toward a peg hanging on the opposite wall where several keys hung to the cells. He chose one and made his way over to the woman’s cell. “I’m going to have to explain this to him, and let me tell you son, he probably won’t be happy. Not one bit.”

The sentry sat down upon the same crate previously occupied by his Captain. “Sir, I didn’t want to do it. You think I wanted to get in that cage with her? After everything she did? She could have killed me! Did you see her eyes? You know what she is?” Landon’s voice rose into near hysterics, and it was only one glaring look from his Captain that shut him up quickly.

Noah unlocked the cage and opened the door. “I know boy. I know how dangerous she is, and I know what she is too. Normal people don’t have that eye color, or do the fucked up shit she did. Those people. Gods. Hence the point of the cell. You don’t ever go in their cells! Ever! You slide them food and water under here,” He gestured with a gloved hand to the small four inch high slot under the door. “That’s it. If there down here, there’s a reason for it. And this one,” he gestured toward the unresponsive woman. “This one, we all know why she’s here. Our new King Elias decreed she is to be executed for crimes against humanity, the realm. You know this boy.” Noah shook his head in disgust and muttered something along the line of ‘stupid kid’ as he entered the cell.

Captain Noah wasn’t a green boy. He was a seasoned warrior, highly respected amongst his Alerian combat brothers, and skilled with various weaponry. He didn’t hesitate to slide his dirk from his weapons belt as he approached the woman who stared at the wall, without blinking, barely breathing. “When did she come to?”

Young Landon rubbed his forehead. “Two hours ago? Maybe three?”

“She sit herself up, or did you do it?”

“I did sir.”

“She hasn’t moved since?”

“No sir. I’ve been checking. She hasn’t budged. Not a peep out of her too. It’s like the light is on, but no one is home.”

Noah grunted as requested Landon enter the cell with one of the lanterns hanging on the wall. The boy timidly complied, but it was plain to see he would rather be on the opposite side of the bars. “Shine that light near her face boy. Don’t get too close, just enough for me to have a look at her.” The Captain commanded.

Noah’s icy blue eyes scanned over the inert form of Deanna. The lantern was brought close to her face where the light hit at her eyes. There was no response. No pupil dilation. Nothing. Noah had to lean in closer, the dirk pricking at the tender hollow of her neck in case she attempted to attack him, to listen to her breathing. When he heard nothing, the Captain yanked off his gloves with his teeth and pressed bare fingers against Deanna’s carotid artery. After a minute or so, he nodded and removed his hand. “She’s alive. Heartbeat is slow, but steady,” Noah informed Landon as he began probing at the nasty looking gash against her temple, a large purple bruise already formed on the left side of her face. “That’s got to hurt.” He probed once more, but Deanna did not flinch or cry out. She remained perfectly lifeless and unresponsive to any attempts to prompt a reaction out of her.

Landon fidgeted nervously. “I don’t get it, sir. She was pretty agitated and lively before. What happened?”

The aging Captain rose, cursing at the stiffness in his knees and ushered the young sentry out of the cell, where he locked it once more and rehung the key. “Sometimes, kid, when a person experiences something traumatic, whether done to them or by them, it does something to them. Changes them. They snap. Something in the brain, clicks. It shuts down.” Another glance back at Deanna was offered by Captain Noah before turning his attention back to Landon. “That one? She’s gone away, kid. Mostly likely never coming back. Trapped in that head of hers, you see? It’s better that she’s going to hit the executioner’s block tomorrow. Put her out of her misery.” He shook his head once more. “Not saying I sympathize with her, Zac, I’m saying it’s better to die, than to live your life like that. A shell. Sad really. Ah well.” Noah sheathed his dirk and eyed Landon.

"Uh, it's Landon, sir."

“Shift change starts soon. Maybe another hour. You wait here, understand? Until your replacement comes. I don’t give a shit if she’s off in La La Land or not, you remain in this building until the next bum takes over. Guard her, guard the keys. Pay attention. Got it, kid?” Noah commanded gruffly, completely ignoring the boy's earlier correction.

The young sentry nodded vigorously, not wishing to incur the wrath of his Captain, or Commander Kir. “Yes Captain. I got it.” Captain Noah grunted a reply and stalked off, leaving Landon to stand alone where the containing cells were. A minute passed by. Another. Another. Finally the young man spoke aloud. “Fuck this. I’m out of here. This job sucks anyway." The boy, far more interested in whores and boozing than guarding prisoners, said fare thee well and ran out of the dungeon area as quickly as his skinny little legs could carry him, leaving the woman in her cell quite alone.

Unblinking startling amber orbs stared vacantly at the wall. Her chest barely rose and fell with each breath she took. Her lips did not twitch, nor did she swallow. She did not shift in position, or bat away the spider that crawled perilously close to her arm.

She did…nothing.

She was nothing. Not now. Not anymore. But she knew. She was aware. She felt everything.

She remembered everything.

I shouldn’t even be here.

The cabin.

Those people.

Their faces.

The blood.

So much blood.

Their screams.

Begging.

Pleading.

I murdered them.

Slaughtered them like sheep.

All of them.

Men.

Women.

Children….Oh the children!

The boy.

My friend.

I did this.

So much death.

My fault.

My guilt.

My sins.

Can never be cleansed.

Can never be forgiven.

Never forgotten.

I deserve to die for my crimes.

For I am death.

Sahar was considering running back to the makeshift infirmary within the castle to check on any patients, but also a good excuse to accommodate some drier clothing before seeking out Lord Verial. Her silks were soaked, and though layered carefully around her body to conceal all, she still felt like a drowned cat in her wet garments. Taking her time, careful to avoid anyone that bore Bariston colors, the healer slipped around corners and down stairways, always peeking over her shoulder in case one of Lady Victoire’s men was following her. It was this distraction that caused the desert woman to slam into a warm body rushing toward her.

With a surprised cry, Sahar stumbled and both she and the young man who blurted out a few choice swear words tumbled back a few steps and hit the wall hard, though he was kind enough to take the brunt of it. Righting herself, she hastily murmured apologies before she lifted her gaze to peer at a flustered and rather red-faced young man in clothes far too big for his slight frame. The large sack he was carrying was lying atop Sahar’s slipped foot, and the young man quickly lifted the bag, his muddied brown eyes gazing at her in adoration.

“Lady Sahar,” he breathed. “Forgive me for running into you like this…I was in a hurry, my Lady.” The desert woman offered a gentle smile and shifted away from him so that he had a bit of breathing room. “It is not necessary, sir. I was not paying attention.” Sahar considered him for a moment, tilting her head to the side. “I know you, do I not? Did I not give you some tea leaves to brew for a cough?”

The young man was silent for so long, Sahar though he hadn’t heard her at first until she realized he was staring at her eyes, his mouth opened slightly. A brief touch upon his arm, and the young man blushed furiously, blinking his eyes and clearing his throat. “Oh, erm, yes. Well no, that was my friend, but I was with him that day, yes my Lady. My name is Landon. Landon Halloway.” The younger man grinned broadly, revealing a gap between his teeth. “I was just on my way from the dungeons. I used to sentry there.”

Sahar arched a fine brow as she adjusted the scarf around her neck. “Used to be sir? Landon? Are you no longer employed with the Alerian guard?”

Landon shrugged. “To be honest, Lady Sahar, this isn’t exactly what I signed up for when I joined. I thought I would be out there in the battlefields, not guarding some crazy murderous woman in a cell all day long.” He gestured to his bag. “I’m sort of defecting, but please, don’t tell anyone I’m leaving or that she is unguarded. Don’t want the Captain hunting me down.” He offered her a winning smile, so sweet and endearing that Sahar had to laugh.

“Your secret is safe with me, Landon, but tell me, this woman you speak of, is she the one whom is to be executed on the morrow?” Though Sahar already knew the answer to the question asked, she wanted confirmation from the former sentry, who was all too eager to nod in reply. “Yep, and to be honest, I’m glad. I heard what she did, and my Lady, believe me, that one has several bolts loose in her head you know? One less crazy in this world is a good thing, I always said.”

Sahar forced a smile and nodded her head. “Of course. Well then, young man, you best be on your way before your brothers find you absent. Good luck to you,” Sahar bent slightly, for he was a few inches shorter than she, and placed a light kiss upon his cheek, the action causing the younger man to turn several shades of red. “To you as well, my Lady,” he winked before taking the stairs two at a time, whistling a jaunty tune.

Sahar considered this information, and wondered if it would be prudent to inform the Lord Verial of the situation once she found him. She pondered over this bit of useful news as she entered the infirmary, and after a brief check on those injured, she headed over to her makeshift bedroom located in a storage area. Sahar had willingly given up her bedroom for the homeless and destitute so they might have a warm bed to sleep in at night. She was about to gather dry clothing for herself when she noticed a rolled parchment lying upon the pallet she used as her bed. Curious, the healer reached for it and began to read, her eyes widening before she erupted into a fit of laughter.

“That sly cat,” she murmured as she tucked the parchment into one sleeve, and forgetting all about dry garb, hurrying out of the infirmary.

The rain had not relented one bit as she found herself outside the castle, her pace quickening as she searched from tent to tent to find the one that belonged to Verial Akilara, former Protector Regent of Aleris. After several inquiries, the healer finally located the tent, and without warning, lifted the flap and entered much to the surprise of Lord Verial who startled to see the sopping wet healer.

“My Lord,” Sahar breathed as she tried not to drip on his belongings. “Forgive the intrusion, but I must speak with you urgently. It is of grave importance.”

Verial was kind enough to offer her a drying rag, for which she was grateful. Being a healer first and foremost, Sahar insisted upon checking his wounds, tsking when she saw the condition of his bandages. She refrained from chastising him as she removed the old, and after cleaning and treating his injuries, the sight of them still causing a twisted pang in her heart, she applied new healing balm and fresh clean strips of linen. Deft fingers knotted the ends and she nodded. “Finished. Try to stay dry, my Lord if you wish to heal properly.” She added a smile before taking a seat. “Now, we need to talk.”

And they did.

Sahar informed him of Layla Victoire’s arrival, and how she would most likely search high and low to find him among the people. It would seem Lady Layla was out for his blood. She did not mention Layla’s earlier rudeness to her, for it seemed unimportant now. Sahar also casually mentioned her earlier conversation with young Landon, quietly observing the Lord’s reaction to this bit of news. She was quite curious on how he would react to such, but made no comment in reply. Last but not least, Sahar showed him the sodden, but still legible rolled parchment: a parting gift from one Alastair Bluefield, or rather, his beast. Her friend. He was gone. I shall miss him, she lamented silently, a sadness overcoming her. There was more to him than others saw. He had a kind heart, though he did not always do right, deep inside, there was a soft kindness that most likely few saw. With a sigh, she shook off these dark thoughts as Verial read.

“For some reason, my Lord, he saw fit to hide it in the lower basement of the Clock tower, though gods only know why there. I shall personally make my way out there to retrieve it and return it…and then…,” Sahar bit her lip, unsure of how to word her next request.

“My Lord, if it pleases you, I would accompany you to wherever you wish to travel. As there is no reason for you to remain here in the City, or so I would assume, such is the case for me. I would be honored if you would have me as your personal healer and councilor.” Sahar dipped her head, lowering her honey colored eyes in respect. She hoped Verial would not refuse her request, for something told her the disgraced Lord would have need of her in the future, perhaps more than he knew himself.

"Welcome Lady Victoire and Captain Ambrose, I shall take you to King Elias."

The formal greeting was offered by the Lord Commander of the Grand City armed forces, Madrin Kir. Layla regarded him with cool grey eyes and a polite smile, but there was a trace of approval hidden in those eyes of hers. She had heard much about this Kir, having risen from commonplace citizen to the elite position of Commander was quite a feat. She had even been informed, by Sahar no less (the thought of the betrayal of her oldest and dearest friend still cut deep, but for now, Layla put on her brave face and would lament over such at a later time), that the young man was in fact touched by the Goddess of Spring herself. Aurora’s Blessing as it was known, was given to the warrior during the battle against the Val’nothe. Surely this exceptional young man deserved such a prestige position serving under the new King.

Layla, never one without her courtesies, bowed her head in greeting as did her Captain and the remainder of the guard. “My Lord Commander, I thank you for your welcome and accept your offer to escort me and mine to meet with this newly crowned boy king Elias Lowell.” The guarded tone gave way to something a tad softer, and the ice in her eyes and smile melted to reveal warmth that was rarely bestowed upon strangers. Madrin offered Layla his arm, which she took immediately, secretly pleased with old world common courtesies that somehow remained ingrained in the heart of others. This man was a gentleman in all sense of the word, and she made a mental note not to forget. “Your name is well known throughout the City sir, and through much of Bariston.” Layla paused, a sudden bitterness crept into her tone briefly. “Or rather, what is now left of Bariston.” The Lady remained silent throughout the walk to the personal chambers of King Elias, musing over the last few hours events.

Prior to Madrin Kir’s personal acknowledgement of the Lady of Bariston’s arrival, one of the Alerian Captains, Layla forgot his name, had encountered her and informed her that her own Lord Commander, Maxim Redmont, had left the dungeon area in great haste shortly after the containment of the woman known as Deanna DiCorvino, she who was inhabited by some vengeful Goddess to wreak havoc across the lands. Layla managed to discover through several sources that this Goddess, Sharay, was indeed ancient and powerful, yet somehow easily defeated by Elysia, Goddess of Winter and trapped inside some sort of protective magical doll form. The result left the human woman she chose as a puppet, Deanna, suffering in some sort of mental state and perhaps with some physical injuries, but Layla was unconcerned with the woman’s health. As it was, rumor had it that she was to be executed tomorrow morning, and Layla could think of no better revenge to be served to the people who lost all due to Deanna and her Goddess.

As for Lord Commander Redmont, the nameless Captain passed on the Redmont lord’s respectful apologies for his absence during her arrival, but matter had to be attended to. Again, Layla had made several hard inquiries, and discovered that the woman (or at least she appeared to be a human woman) Meredia Ravenholm, a love interest of the Commander, had been killed, and the Commander was tending to her body. Though Layla understood grief and saying farewell to lost loved ones, duty came before all, and she was disappointed that her own Lord Commander chose personal loss over his duty to attend by her side when she met the young King. Layla would let this personal slight slide for now, for the Commander truly seemed fond of the flame haired beauty.

After a few turns down stone corridors (Layla was shocked by how much of the castle still remained intact and inhabitable) they came upon a large wooden door where two guards stood at attention. Both nodded to their Commander Kir and a knock was sounded to announce their arrival. It was said that the foreign emissaries from Heruin, AmEerah Sultan and Valorious Malku, had already paid their respects to the young King, and Layla was saddened she had arrived too late to greet and thank them for their role in the fight against the Goddess Sharay. Layla reminded herself to personally make a trip to Heruin at some point. Those two would make considerable allies and she wanted to remain on good terms with both.

Layla instructed her guard to remain outside with the exception of Captain Ambrose Pennington, and the two along with Commander Kir entered the King’s chambers. Layla stared at the young boy for several moments, taking him in. He was young, that was no doubt, young and handsome in his boyish way, but the way he carried himself with authority and power, the knowledge that lie within his eyes, caused Layla to consider her strategy. This was no green boy as she had previously assumed. This was a boy who knew his rightful place as King and would not suffer fools.

The Lady of Bariston bowed deeply, wishing she had dressed more appropriately, but the weather dictated otherwise. “I am Lady Layla Victoire of Bariston, your Grace. Greetings and well met to you,” was Layla’s proper offering to the young King. When Ambrose had straightened, she announced him as well. “This fine gentleman by my side is my Captain Ambrose Pennington of the Elite Bariston Guard.” Ambrose quietly paid his respects to the new King and when cordial greetings were ended, Layla got down to business. She waved the offer for a seat and instead began her speech.

“Your Grace, first I would like to welcome your to your newly assumed position, a position that I am sure you will take into hand with greater ease than your predecessor.” Layla’s features remained cooly polite, but there was a fire in those grey orbs that she tried to contain. “That, my King, was an error in my judgment for I assumed that Verial Akilara would fill the role of Protector Regent as befitting anyone who rules over the masses. I was wrong, and I apologize for such a costly mistake.” She noted King Elias looked at her strangely, but said nothing and Layla seized this moment to continue on quickly.

“King Elias, my original request upon coming here was to demand the execution of the woman you hold captive in your dungeons, Deanna DiCorvino, for crimes against humanity and the realm. As I have recently been informed that justice shall be served, I no longer seek that request, but would thank you from the bottom of my heart and the hearts of those in Bariston who lost loved ones due to the heinous acts of this madwoman.”

“I would also respectfully request the imprisonment of Verial Akilara for failure to uphold his duties and title as Protector Regent. I charge him with consorting with the enemy, thus failing to end this Chaos Goddess’ reign of terror which resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands as you already know.” Layla paused then, choosing her next words. “Though I would demand his execution as well, I would be satisfied with life imprisonment of this man. Your Grace, I trust you will make the right decision in this matter.” Even though Elias’ eyes had narrowed slightly, and he seemed unhappy with Layla’s choice of words, the Lady of Bariston was on a role and his reaction went unnoticed.

Finally Layla’s lips curled in what was nothing more than a baring of teeth. “Lastly, your Grace, I am here regarding the future rebuilding of Bariston. Seeing as how my great City was devastated and laid to waste, I demand payment from the City’s treasury, my King. As it was the fault of Verial Akilara who previously filled your shoes, to lead and protect the realm, as he failed entirely to do so, I think it is only right and fair to grant my people retribution. I am sorry for your own persona loss in the Grand City, truly I am, but your great and wonderful City would not have fallen if not for the actions, or should I say lack of, from Verial Akilara. Therefore, I demand by blood right, access to a third of the City’s treasury, which is vast and plenty, to assist in making Bariston habitable and eventually great once more.”

There was a moment of silence as the King processed her rather blunt ‘requests’.

“I do not think I am asking too much, King Elias. My people have suffered more than you can imagine. The gods, or in this case, goddess, arrived far too late to put a stop to this pandemonium. Should to fail to comply in regards to the treasury, I shall assume then that you consider Bariston lesser than your Grand City, and do not wish for its people to have some hope of rebuilding their already shattered lives. I will assume that you do not wish Bariston to flourish as it once did, but rather remain a city of ashes and hopeless despair. I trust, King Elias, you have stepped into this rather large role with a sense of understanding, though…,” Layla paused for dramatic effect, her smile as cold as the storm grey of her eyes. “…I had the same hope for Verial Akilara and we both know how that ended.”

Layla locked her gaze with the little King, daring this child to refuse her.


An hour later…

The Lady of Bariston was not to be trifled with, for her mood was as foul as the bitter taste left upon her tongue from her meeting with King Elias. That boy does not know who he is dealing with, Layla thought sourly as she, followed by her guard, strode with purpose through the vast refugee camp that was littered with tents. It took a matter of minutes before she found out which belonged to Verial Akilara, and Layla wasted zero time hunting him down. She barked at her guard to remain outside and without so much as a warning, Layla barged into the tent, only to stop short upon seeing Sahar located inside with the traitor Verial.

“Sahar. I would say it is a surprise seeing you here, but that would make a liar out of me, now wouldn’t it?” Her voice dripped with sarcastic venom before she dismissed the desert magae to glare at Verial who stood silently observing Layla’s outburst.

Layla wasted no time springing into her planned verbal assault on the fallen angelic drow. “Never in my life have I been so wrong about a person as I have with you Verial. I trusted you, believed in you, thought you were a good man who could handle such an important and vital role in this realm, and what did you do? You pissed on my generosity, you pissed on the people, and you pissed on the realm. For what? Oh, that’s right,” Her sugary smile dripped with poison as did her mocking tone. “Your loyalty to your friend. How sweet. How touching. Instead of stopping her reign of terror, her enslavement of the innocents that resulted in so many unnecessary deaths, you aided her in the obliteration of innocents when you did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO STOP HER BECAUSE YOU FELT SOME INSANE SENSE OF LOYALTY TO HER INSTEAD OF YOUR OWN PEOPLE!” Layla’s voice rose to shrieking, causing her guard to quickly poke their heads inside, before ducking back out into the rain. Layla’s wrath on a good day was fearsome enough; on a bad, it was best to run and hide and not come out until she said so.

The Lady of Bariston flat out ignored the shocked gasp of Sahar as she marched over to Verial, standing but inches from him and laughed cruelly in his face. “Stop her? Oh no. Not the Protector of the Realm. No, he wouldn’t do that. I’ve heard the rumors that are spreading around the City like wildfire. You were seen leaving your chambers all broken and bloodied. Conveniently, the bitch Goddess exited those same chambers not long after you. Tell me something Verial…” She gestured to the loss of his wings that did not go unnoticed by her. “Was the loss of your wings and your son, (Layla had heard that rumor as well. Though her heart did go out to Verial for that, she was filled with too much black rage and betrayal to offer even the slightest of condolences) not to mention all those precious lives that were slaughtered without a single care worth your hesitation in killing her? Were such sacrifices beneath you and your ridiculous notion that this destructive force of Chaos wearing your beloved friend's skin could be saved, a fair trade for so many who suffered and continue to do so because of your incompetence and inability to think with your head and not what lies beneath your pants?”

Layla did not wait for his response. She went in for the kill while he was still wounded.

“Your people were dying left and right while you were busy fucking that evil insane bitch. I do so hope it was worth it, dear Verial.”