The Goddess was lovely and willowy in form; her ivory skin was decorated with the charcoal stripes that betrayed her therianthrope heritage from her mortal days of yesteryear. Her midnight colored hair hung in a heavy curtain down her back, hair that accentuated the paleness of her flesh, that matched the bottomless pools of onyx that were her eyes. She stood now in her temple of death, gazing down upon the slumbering form of her child who lay still upon the granite altar. Even faced with oblivion she is lovely, the Goddess mused as she gently stroked the dark auburn hair that tumbled against tan shoulders. Such a pity. Such a waste.

The Goddess placed a tender and motherly kiss on the woman’s smooth forehead. “Forgive me, love, but you brought this upon yourself,” The Dark Mother whispered even she held her hand above Deanna’s body, palm down. Closing her eyes, Sharay, Goddess of Chaos and Death drew the last of Deanna’s essence into her body, and the woman who was once her High Priestess and Beloved slowly faded before her eyes.

Sharay smiled and was prepared to exit the psychic plane when she felt the intruder before he even spoke. The Goddess’ face became a twisted and ugly thing as she opened her mouth and let out a primordial scream, the illusion of her temple shattering as millions of shards of glass carried by the maelstrom of her fury directed themselves toward Blend/Jelaephon Delai/Xezvimhi or whatever this traitorous filth was calling himself these days. Vaguely did she hear the lying dog shout something about Tempesturo to which she laughed at before flinging the shards of glass at the astral form of Blend, tearing his manifestation to shreds as the psychic link was severed. She hoped Blend was in a great deal of physical pain when he returned to his mortal shell.

Come before me deceiver, and I will crush you under my heel like the roach that you are.

***

The Northwatch arrived within a mile of Hinewai Harbor and anchored. The massive warship with its skeleton crew were busy with the preparations of lowering smaller boats into the sea as their leader, Lord Commander Maxim Redmont watched with narrowed scarlet hued orbs. It was only a few hours before dawn, a perilous time for the vampire lord, but the impending rising sun did not deter the Commander on his mission to seek and destroy all who threatened the civilization of Aleris. Unbeknownst to them, a stowaway, a young boy named Elias, hid safely below deck as he was as determined as they to get to the Grand City for reasons only known to him. From this distance, the Grand City was in perfect view and already could the crew witness the burning of the City, could hear the screams of the citizens, the shouts of the soldiers to arms. Already they could hear the howls of the lycans under the command of Elijah Bluefield, the bellows of the Guluwrath as the Chaos Brood descended upon the City like a plague. War had come, and Maxim Redmont was ready.




It has begun.

The talented Gethe and his mastery of dark arts had made it all too easy for Deanna and her army to enter the gated City. Shrouded in nothing by shadowy mists, the entire City and its people were easy prey for those who lived for darkness. Gethe and his army had begun their attack, and soon Alerian Guards had fallen one by one, the pitiful human husks that they were.

The Goddess stood in the middle of the pandemonium alongside Elijah who tore through the weak humans encased in boiled leather and chain mail as if they were nothing but rag dolls, as he protected his Mistress. Not that it was necessary, for the Goddess fed upon Death and Chaos, her powers growing with each gasping breath she heard, which each drop of blood that was spilled, with each scream of agony. Within moments, the undead Bluefield werewolf was dripping with blood and gore, a primitive gleam in his eyes, his teeth bared. Sharay smiled to see her consort enjoying himself so much, and indeed it did seem that the werewolf had never seemed so alive.

Slowly she turned in a circle to witness the carnage. Her lycan forces were tearing through toward the castle gates, and had already invaded the main courtyard, along with Gethe and the Guluwrath led by Donovan. Few of her army of Chaos had fallen to the feeble attempts of man, and the Dark Mistress felt confident and secure that the battle would be over in moments. For all the preparations the armed forces of the Grand City had taken part in, they were no match for her brood that included the Dead Seed children who followed Gethe in almost zealot fervor.

Aleris would soon be hers, and all would bow before her.

She had taken the opportunity to reach deep within the labyrinth that was Deanna’s mind and found her slumbering daughter. It was time for the Goddess to finish what she had started and complete the transformation into her mortal host. She had just finished draining Deanna of her life essence when Blend, the traitorous bastard, had forced himself into her psyche which enraged the Goddess even as she set upon destroying him on their mental battleground. Once again Blend had managed to invade her powerful mind with such ease, it was confounding how he was able to do so.

She sought out Elijah who was staring off into the distance, and the Goddess turned to see what the wolf was so focused on. It was Verial, and he was watching her with great intensity. Could he have witnessed her internal struggle? Was it possible that the King of Aleris was using this information to find a weakness with the Goddess? Her exquisite features twisted with the wrath she felt at the intimate exchange between the two. Even as Verial began descending the stairs into the courtyard, she noted Elijah had vanished from her side, presumably to catch the King off guard.

Visibly shaking with rage, The Dark Mother turned unleash her fury upon those who would defy her will when she felt a presence nearby who could possibly tip the scales on her eventual victory. Closing her onyx orbs, the Goddess reached out with her mind and brushed against one Maxim Redmont. Ah, the bane of her very existence outside of the false goddess Elysia. If not for this fool, Deanna would have returned to her mother's open arms ages ago. Time to take out the trash, she thought with a devious gleam in her eyes. Within seconds, Sharay pinpointed his location, her full lips curving into a wicked grin.

“I found you, vampire.” With the powerful forces of Chaos aiding her, the Goddess raised her arms over her head as dark indigo flames sprouted from the palms of her hands. Words that belonged to a long dead language were chanted in a low voice as the dark magic grew in size as the light breeze that swirled around them grew in force and strength. Suddenly the force of Chaos was unleash in the very direction of the Northwatch and moments later, a violent blast was heard as the massive warship exploded in a violent fashion, a massive fireball would be seen from the City.

"Farewell vampire. I hope you burn in hell."

Sharay did not have a chance to savor this moment as she felt her Dead Seed children die one by one, her Aliscowri began to fall as did the Guluwrath who served her. She heard the cries of the lycans who were loyal to her as silver coated weapons sliced into their fur covered flesh. All around her, her children were dying, falling somehow to the army of the City and those allies who fought on their side. She sought out the one who led the attack on her beautiful Dead Seed children and was prepared to unleash her hell upon him, but hesitated in her attack at the last second. Gethe had wasted no time in turning his maniacal rage on the dark haired man who bore the rank upon his armor of Commander. Kill him, my demon. Tear his black heart from his body as payment for the murder of the children who followed you, Sharay’s unspoken words travelled to the demon as he began his attack against the City’s Commander.

It was at this precise moment that the Goddess heard her name shouted, or rather the name of the woman whose life-force she drained, whose body she inhabited. Sharay turned and standing less than fifty feet from her was Verial Akilara. The drow hybrid seemed clear eyed despite the splattering of blood he wore on his armor, the sweat that beaded on his brow. Sharay cocked her head to the side and smiled to him, her lips parted to speak when she felt something sharp pierce her side, and lodge between her ribs.

Blinking back her shock, the Goddess glanced down to curiously regard the shaft of the arrow that had been fired at her, finding its mark. A dark brow raised, she lifted her head and located the soldier who was busy notching another arrow, preparing to fire it at the enemy Goddess. Another shout was heard, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Verial Akilara ran toward the solider and threw himself at him just as the arrow was let loose, flying blindly behind her to burrow its steely point into the eye of a fellow soldier. Amused, Sharay calmly watched as the tendrils of Chaos began forcing the arrow out of her body where it harmlessly fell to the stone floor, the wound healing itself instantly. A noble but foolish gesture sweet Verial, she thought as Elijah sprung suddenly behind Verial and attacked him. As the hybrid King grappled with the massive werewolf, Sharay advanced upon the soldier who so stupidly thought to kill her with a simple weapon made of steel and stick.

“Now, is that how you treat your Queen?" She asked, her voice dripping with honeyed venom as she advanced on him in the blink of an eye, her fist punched through metal armor that covered his torso, finding his heart. The whites of the soldier’s eyes were very visible as he let out a strangled gurgle before dying even as the Goddess held him upright. Sharay disentangled herself from his lifeless corpse, her arm wet and sticky with blood up to her elbow as the fallen soldier fell to the ground, another waste of a human who would become food for her Aliscowri.

When she turned back she noticed that neither Elijah nor Verial were in sight, and once again she smiled knowing that the werewolf was occupying the King until she arrived. Sharay had personal matters to discuss with Verial and planned on finishing up here soon to tend to them. As the Dark Mother began climbing the stairs that led to the Castle gate, she paused midstep, her gaze finding someone of interest who had joined in the attack against her army. Someone who was as much as a masquerader as she was, albeit in a different form and rather strange garb. Sharay recognized a being that transcended her own magnificence, and frowned. This masked woman actively killing what remained of her Dead Seed children and her Aliscowri, but hesitated when it came to violence against her lycans. This is inconvenient, Sharay thought. Whatever this divine creature was, she had no business actively participating in this war. This being would unfavorably tip the scales in favor of those who opposed her rule.

Sharay watched with fascination as one of her lycans was about to attack the masked woman, but something about the newcomer had him reconsidering, and this display irritated the Dark Mother. What truly incurred her wrath was upon hearing the masked woman attempt to coerce the lycan members of her army to flee. She believes they are slaves, unwilling slaves, Sharay thought angrily. She had not just created an army, she created a family and she was the Mother who cared for them, who would give them the world! How dare this woman presume otherwise!

Enough of this foolishness!

The Goddess of Death and Chaos once more raised her arms high above her head and called upon the Darkness. If this intruder wanted to involve herself in matters that did not concern her. Serpentine tendrils of oily black masses began pouring from her entire being, the very threads of Chaos itself.

“Infect them,” Sharay intoned darkly. “Infect all of them.”

The twisting dark snake-like matter began to solidify and spread out in thousands of directions. None would be spared from the touch of Chaos. Soldiers and commoners, lycans and humans, all would know the sweet destructive force of Chaos. Those with weak minds would be effected most, and once infused with Chaos, the madness would spread from one individual to another. Any who remained unaffected from the seductive lure of Chaos would find themselves fighting against brother, sister, mother and father, friend and foe alike. Madness began to spread in the inky blackness that refused no one.

The Dark Goddess laughed and resumed climbing the stairs. Once securely inside the castle, the iridescent black coils of Chaos enveloped the structure, effectively creating a barrier against those who would attempt to enter. This would give her a few moments of privacy to deal with Verial uninterrupted. Bare feet slapped lightly against stone flooring as she touched the scale that hung upon her neck, allowing it to guide her to Verial and Elijah. It would only be moments before she had accomplished her goal, and the Chaos would spread throughout the City.

Sharay had turned the corner and found herself down a long narrow hallway. The obsidian scale that hung between her breasts grew warmer, and she knew that the door at the end was where Elijah had taken Verial.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Ready or not, here I come Verial.”

Oh if only he had any idea what Sharay had in store for him, he might have begged Elijah to kill him right then and there.

Darius Redmont watched the approaching army even in the darkness his lycan eyes cut through the haze like a knife, the army was massive. He pulls the horn he’d been given in the watch tower and blew long and hard, by the time men were assembling though the gates had been blown clean open. Fingers pull back on the cord of his crossbow aiming at the floating demon; he holds fire though watching other arrows bounce harmlessly off. The Redmont lowers his aim and launches a silver tipped bolt into the fray.

He directs the fire of the other archers down into the masses knowing their arrows will not hit the demon floating high above. His dark grey eyes peer into the fighting watching Verial and Madrin attack on the ground. He watches the commander of the Galuwrath drop and the beasts go insane attacking everyone and everything. Some of the nine foot tall monsters scale the wall to the wall walk and begin to tear at the men there.

The Redmont directs his fire to these beasts that push the archers and swordsmen a top the wall to the base of the tower. He could hear shouts below as men formed a small shield wall in the width of the wall-walk to face toward the cat headed monsters. Darius leans over the battlement launching bolt after bolt into the monsters though they had no weakness to silver and if the wounds weren’t fatal they kept coming.

Claws tear at the men’s shield and armor below the creatures going crazy upon the helpless souls. He frowns, feeling the anger beginning to swell deep in his mind. A red halo circles his iris and the lycan drops into the fray from the tower. He smashes the thick oak stock of the crossbow against a galuwraths claws and draws his sword, provided by the blacksmiths of Grand City. He moves faster than the men slashing and stabbing. He was much smaller than the monsters, 5’7 to their nine feet but size had never stopped the Redmont.

He ducks under a swing threatening to take off his head and drives the short sword into one of the beast’s heart where the blade gets stuck. He draws his two self-forged silver lined daggers darting and slashing with the blades. This is where he finds himself when the tendrils of shadow of Deanna strike the men and beasts around him, he feels it himself threatening to turn him against the men behind him. He struggles against it teeth gritting as he begins to transform rage filling his blood. The armor of the city watch tears and shatters as his body grows back arching.

Claws rake the eyes of a Galuwrath as he finishes his transformation snarling at the cat head beings, shreds of white and gold and black hanging from his form. The lycan now nearly as large as the monsters grapples with the beasts getting clawed in the process but not letting up. He stops when a silver arrow buries itself in his back, roaring in anger and pain as the arrow burns his flesh smacking the tip away and turning to look at the men behind him. He could see them being corrupted by this goddess and it left the Redmont alone on the wall surrounded on both sides.

The Redmont would have grinned, if he wasn’t in wolf form and so angry. He’d have to apologize to the Protector Regent later. His claws tear through the armor of one of the corrupted men dragging him close and blocking arrows from above. He spins and kicks a Galuwrath off the wall to let the cat headed being drop to the cobblestones below. The Redmont felt another arrow bite through his thigh and drops to a knee, well this wasn’t going to go end well was it?

Chaos had been observing the battle from a high, the demonic arraki wheeling in a lazy circle still holding back per Souls request. He could feel the strength of the goddess growing inside the woman and he knew Soul could feel it as well. We cannot wait much longer, the whole city will be lost, they have their champions but the queen grows stronger with every death.

Black was inside the city and could see the battle quickly approaching. He whistled as he worked in the black smiths shop, vacated by its previous owner when the battle had begun. He juggles a couple clay pots held in his crossed arms a torch grasped tightly in his hand. Oil soaked woven rope leads to each pot poking down into the contents. Direct conflict was not the small arraki’s strength, deception, traps and being sneaky always worked well for him. He rolls a pot across the street and sits calmy at the end of the rope masked in the shadow of an alley way.

Retreating armored men run by followed quickly by a gaggle of lycans, Galuwrath and Aliscowri all stepping over the five pots connected by rope, a couple trip but the rope manages to stay, he only had to blow one. He murmurs holding the torch to the fuse which takes the fire quickly he turns his back and darts back into the blacksmith shop just as the fuse leads into the first pot. The contents consisted of silver shrapnel and unused pieces of weapons and metal that the blacksmith had left lying around. The bombs explode in a shower of these pieces, silver striking deep into the bodies of the lycans and hopefully the other pieces doing work.

Blend wanted us to try and save the slaves not kill them.Soul speaks in his mind.

Someone is already trying but feel with your mind Soul the goddess grows stronger and she is corrupting them now, everyone, this city is going to tear itself apart plus what do I do know of turning therianthropes against their master? Black mused back.

Chaos listened to the internal argument when he spied Darius Redmont struggling against the men and Galuwrath around him. Shall I help the poor lycan fool or leave him to his fate?

Save him, bring him back to the Scarlet Pearl if you can if not we should be there soon and we are bringing Nari’s little pirate army. Obstinata has been tapping into the minds of some of the souls inside it, we might be able to fight this darkness with light this time.

Chaos dropped from the sky like a stone, bare feet shattering stone behind the Galuwrath threatening the downed Redmont. Wings curl close to his body as the cat headed creaturs turn to snarl at him. The first foolishly slashes his chest acidic blood burning the claws away from the creature. The demonic arraki smiles an evil smile driving a fist through the creature and gripping its spine. He had the runes of Obstinata on his body but the magic could only be concentrated through a spinal column of a non-human creature. The spine was jerked from its place and broken, the body of the Galuwrath slumping to the side. The limp bone tightens and stiffens in his hand becoming a long shaft of bone, the demonic nature of the spine made Chaos smile even more.

He points the end at the creatures as they turn their collective attention away from the beat and bloodied Redmont but the blue flame washes across them burning their flesh from their bones. The fire continues, curling up around the tower and burning any man who sticks his head out, Soul was forcing him not to kill the corrupted ones, at least not yet. The demonic arraki steps over smoldering bones and lifts Darius one handed, the lycan had passed out and had several wounds and was reverted back to human form. Wings unfurl and flap pulling him up higher.

I’ll be back Black, with Soul, stay safe.

The deceptive arraki chuckled at that, wearing the armor of the city watch suddenly, but with an arrow through his waist, he stops chuckling as lycans run by appearing dead to anyone not paying attention. Hurry back my friends or you will miss all the fun.


Abroad the Scarlet Pearl the arraki had found small bits of silver, not enough to put into the cannons though. The airship was as ready for battle as it could be. The men were pirates but he knew like Nari with evil afoot they would do their best. He almost laughed watching them wander the decks tense with a readyness for battle. Humans always seemed to be the ones fighting the wars of the immortals, the arraki shook his head, if he could have had it any other way he would of.

He stands upon the top deck, one of the men saying they had seen an explosion to the north. The arraki peers the way, it was a distance from the battle but not too far it must have been related. Nari was speaking about keeping an eye peeled for enemy air ships and the arraki scanned the horizon. Grand City was almost in view but he had already seen what awaited them and it was only going to get more ugly before it got any better.

The blasted catapult that got him from behind, had actually managed to knock him back into his smaller form. The drow would pay for it slowly, if the dark mother didn't destroy him herself. Gethe had no time to change back in the midst of a symphony of death. Not to mention he sensed the cursed light of the sun was not far off, so he was forced to remain weakened.

"So the prodigal son of this body dares to challenge the power of his rightful master. You should kneel mortal and accept the sacrifice you were born to." Gethe was as close to indignant at Madrin's defiance, as the demon gets. The foolish human was literally born to be an offering, to appease Gethe. At the time the dark lord had planned to use the whining newborn as a catalyst for his own entry into the mortal realm. However, his damned bitch of a mother delayed his plans. Fortunately, he was patient and received a more suitable shell from his father a short time later. Regardless, escaping his grasp was a worthy reason to turn the man into a bloodless corpse.

When he was about to attack he heard the dread queen speak in his mind like a pitiful human mother. The stupid woman displayed her true colors in that moment causing a sinister laugh to echo loudly, diminished by the pained shouts of battle. She actually believed her control was absolute, Gethe could not keep his amusement to himself. He felt his mark on Madrin, embedded in the human's life force, one of his favorite experiments. The very source of the slave commander's power, feared by all the mortals on Nirdor. The man had a strong will but, Gethe already had a door to the darkness in his heart. The weakling would kneel begging to die when he was done with him.

When Gethe was about to continue, he felt all his threads keeping the dark army in line snap at once due to the dread mistress unleashing unrestrained chaos on the masses. The cursed woman in one action had freed her entire army from obedience. Also, his power had returned to the level he was at when he first came to Aleris. All his slaves could now chose for themselves once more. The dread queen had no idea what damage she had wrought. His dark might was still formidable, but his senses had been dulled dramatically. The sudden severing stunned him briefly, without hesitation Madrin charged him.

Gethe's dancing long knives were all that saved him from a serious wound. He would admit the humans relentless attack was making retaliation difficult. The demon started grasping ever weapon he could lay hands on to drive Madrin back. The dead soldiers all around resulted in him have fifteen long-swords in addition to his favorite weapons. Seventeen independent blood drinking blades forced the Lord Commander and his eight soldiers, with the will to resist the chaos infecting Grand city, to give ground back to the gate. Gethe attacked the humans with dense blast of darkness that claimed half their number in delightful screams of pain, as they became black smudges on the cobblestones.

"Only five puny mortals remain, how much longer do you think weaklings like you can defy your fated demise." At that moment a bright flash of blue flame engulfed the area forcing Gethe to retreat to the solace of the night. He recognized the power that the arraki wielded but, it felt different somehow, he needed to find the master of it quickly. Gethe cloaked himself in shadow and sought the origin of the annoying power that confused his senses.

Elijah was like a very happy child, joyful romping and threading through the crowd of people who were fighting trying to protect Grand City. Alongside of him was Deanna, his Dark Mistress, and he made her proud by dispatching anyone who got in their way. Bodies were flung left and right out of his way, long, razor-like claws ripping through flesh as Elijah cleared a path. Blood and gore splattered against his form and the city streets as the pair of him and Deanna made way towards the castle. Nevertheless, though there was a delighted grin accented by elongated fangs spread across his muzzle, Elijah knew there was something wrong about his beloved Mistress.

Her mind was distracted. It was almost as if some one was trying to control her or grasp some tiny and insignificant distant part of her soul that might have jeopardized their whole mission. This was when Elijah looked up and noticed Verial Akilara, Protector Regent of Aleris, had locked gazes with Deanna. Was it he who was causing her this pain, or some one else? In any case, Verial had turned away and started to descend the castle walls, presumably to catch up with Deanna. Elijah normally took great care to watch over his Mistress and make sure she was fine and dandy, but this time he galloped away, pushing through the crowd again like a giant wave trying to cut Verial off and catch him off guard.

As he plowed through Grand City's desperate fighting soldiers, Elijah noticed off in the distance towards the harbor a ship had exploded. Fire and debris filled the sky and smoke plumed upwards. Elijah could see even from the distance that this ship bore the now burning banner of Bariston. The Elved city had sent reinforcements, but it was to no avail. Elijah bounded through the city once more, bent on targeting Verial Akilara.

At last, the undead therianthrope found the hybrid king of Aleris and watched a few paces away. It appeared that Verial was attempting to shout something at his Mistress to try to perhaps stop her. It was a futile effort. Over the screaming, groaning and sounds of war, the Verial's voice would have been unheard. Elijah was prepared to strike, laughter threatening to bubble from his throat, when an arrow found its mark inside Deanna's side. He snarled, lips parting back over his fangs dangerously. Elijah prepared himself to attack whatever person had dared fire at his Mistress, until something strange had happened.

Perhaps out of his mind, Verial ran forward and tackled the soldier to the ground before the man who shot Deanna targeted her again. The arrow that was in the soldier's bow flew off course and right into the eye of another Grand City soldier, knocking the man dead almost instantly. Elijah took this chance to spring on Verial, latching onto the Protector Regent from behind before he could get up. Verial, knowing very well what was on him, lashed back and tried to defend himself. Verial managed to twist his body around and even punched Elijah a few times, blows that although were strong, did not manage to push Elijah away.

Verial reached for his sword as Elijah snapped his jaws at him. Unfortunately, the sword was a few inches too far away and Elijah reacted by wrapping a clawed fist so tightly around Verial's arms, the bones snapped in response. Momentarily, Elijah wondered why Verial didn't just turn into his dragon. This thought was severed however when Elijah reached down and sunk fangs into Verial's neck, making the drow hybrid still. It would be easier to carry him away like this, when his jugular was in risk of being ripped out at any second. Verial knew this and it was the reason he did not move.

With fangs buried in Verial's neck and blood trickling down his throat, Elijah lifted the Protector Regent and headed back towards the castle where a private room would be taken. After all Deanna, for some reason, wanted to have a heart to heart talk with Verial Akilara. Somewhere during Elijah's journey before reaching the castle, he heard the sound of a howl, as if some one was trying to control his own weres that he had transformed. Stopping before the castle doors, Elijah removed his fangs for a brief second, holding Verial tightly so that he could not get away, and parted his muzzle so that a chilling howl went through the crowd. His family, if they had been swayed by this other alpha, would fall back onto the right track by simply hearing his voice. In response, the sound of his howl seemed to inspire his kin. Screams filled the air once more and were further accompanied by Deanna's tendrils of dark magic that whipped through the city, gripping the fearful souls of many and inciting chaos where she could.

Inside the castle it was empty, dark and not a soul could be found. Elijah navigated the corridors until he found the king's chamber at the end of a narrow hallway. Once inside, Elijah let go of Verial by throwing him across the room. Elijah knew his own strength and was aware that as much as he wanted to kill Verial and snap the pathetic hyrbid's neck, his Mistress would have been disappointed in him. Verial fell against the small table in his room; his body tumbling rag doll-like across it. The Protector Regent landed against his wall with a thud and somehow managed to push himself up with his one good hand and knees.

Elijah pounced on Verial who fell once more. Grabbing Verial by his wounded throat, Elijah pinned him up against the side of the bed, Verial's raven feathered wings crushed behind him by Elijah's weight. The undead werewolf cocked his head curiously at Verial.

"You are nothing special, just like your son. Your death will be a miserable one," Elijah said, a growl in his voice.

Unexpectedly, a sharp pain suddenly throbbed in Elijah's hip. When Elijah looked down, Verial choking from the grip on his neck, there was a dagger in his side. Somehow, the King had gotten a dagger and stabbed Elijah in his hip. In response, Elijah reached across and punched Verial hard across the jaw, a blow that effectively stopped the Protector Regent from fighting back. Elijah let go finally and stood up, towering over the dazed form of Verial Akilara. It was clear, as odd colored eyes stared up at Elijah Bluefield, that Verial was very much aware of the pain and trouble he was in but could not do a damn thing about it.

Right where Elijah wanted him for Deanna.

With that, Elijah left the king's chambers with a limp, yanking the dagger free from his hip and throwing it to the side where Verial would not be able to get it. There, he slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the otherwise silent hallway and waited liked a ten foot, towering sentinel for Deanna. His Mistress would have what she needed, despite how much Elijah wanted to spill the rest of Verial's blood.

By the time Verial had caught up with Deanna, standing a few feet away from her now, he was covered in blood from lycanthrope and Aliscowri. Verial had taken his share of enemy lives in the battle. For some time, he had protected the city and its people, managing to help shake the resolve of Grand City's foes. When he stood before Deanna, his armor and sword colored with crimson, Verial parted his lips and shouted to make an attempt to reach her ears. Verial knew damn well that this was not Deanna, but part of him hoped that perhaps the sound of his voice - something familiar - might reach past whoever was controlling his friend and make it to the real Deanna.

"Deanna! Stop this!" Verial yelled across the deafening sounds of war. "This is not you!"

His words, perhaps lost in the wind, seemed to rouse some curiosity in Deanna as she titled her head at him. Just as he was going to say something else, an arrow flew through the sky and pieced Deanna in her side. Verial scanned the crowd quickly for the soldier who had made the shot. The man was clearly nervous now, his fingers trembling as he prepared to fire another arrow at the frightening, dark woman before him. Verial dashed across the gap between him and the soldier, tackling the man to the ground. The arrow sailed through the air and as Verial looked up, he noticed the silver tipped arrow found its target in another soldier's eye, the man falling dead immediately.

Verial cursed under his breath at the obvious mistake he had made. His frustrations at this were short lived however. Verial suddenly had a much more serious problem. There was a heavy weight on his back and claws that raked trying to shred through his armor. Immediately, Verial knew this was Elijah who had seized his chance at taking the Grand City's Protector Regent. Verial was pushed away from the soldier he had tackled, driven across the ground by the force of the undead werewolf. Verial reached back and thrust an elbow against Elijah's face repeatedly. Since this had no effect, Verial twisted his body around and hit Elijah hard across his muzzle with a fist a few times.

In comparison, Verial's attacks were nothing. Elijah's strength was overpowering and Verial would not utilize his dragon, not in this situation. He would have rather died. Verial's odd colored eyes searched the ground and looked for his sword. Thrusting an arm out, Verial reached for the blade that was not very far away. As he did this, he noticed Deanna hovering over the form of the other soldier that had shot her. There was not much else he saw though. As he made an attempt to grab his sword, the blade inlaid with silver that could wound Elijah, his arm was broken, bones snapping in response to Elijah's tightened grip around his forearm.

Verial winced and yelled out. Any further sound he would have made was silenced though when Elijah's fangs sunk into his neck, biting easily through flesh and drawing blood. Verial went still. It was not as if he was afraid of being infected again. After Elijah had bitten him some months ago, Verial took an antibody that now protected him from any therianthrope virus being spread throughout his blood. Verial knew that if he made one foolish move, his throat would be ripped out and he would die on the streets of Grand City, bleeding from a gapping hole in his neck and choking on his own blood.

Dimly he was aware of being carried away. Verial gazed around him, though the position he was in made it difficult to look at anything else except the sky. Verial only realized he was in the castle in his chambers when he was thrown from Elijah. He fell across the small table in his room then hit then wall with a thud, crumbling to the floor and landing on his broken army in the process. Verial tried to stifle a groan by biting his lower lip. Unfortunately, there was not much he could do to smother this pained sound.

Grasping at straws now, Verial tried to push himself up with his other arm. He managed to get onto his knees, but his world was spinning with agony. Verial's attempt to get up was halted as Elijah advanced on him again, grabbing him by the throat with one large clawed hand and pinning him forcefully to the bed. Elijah's grip tightened, blood from Verial's wound welling around the therianthrope's fingers as he squeezed. Verial choked out and kicked his legs, trying to lift them and push Elijah away. Dimly, Verial remembered he had hidden a dagger beneath his bed and with his other good arm, reached for that blade desperately.

When Elijah mentioned Kyrian's death, Verial paused for a brief few seconds. So, Deanna or whoever was controlling her, planned to kill him in the same manner his son had died? Why did Elijah even bother bringing him here then instead of leaving him on the battlefield. No. Unbeknownst to the werewolf, Deanna's clueless minion, Verial knew she likely had some other agenda for him. His lips managed to draw into a hard line as he looked up at the werewolf. His fingers grasped the hilt of that dagger and with whatever strength Verial had, he slammed it into Elijah's hip. Verial knew that the dagger was not inlaid with silver, so it did not have much effect in comparison.

Elijah responded by punching Verial so hard across the face that Verial swore his jaw almost broke – almost. Instead, the werewolf let go of Verial who fell on his side to the floor, gasping for breath. At this moment, he much resembled a fish out of water, minus the flailing around. As much as he wanted to, Verial could not move. The pain in his arm was flowing over into his chest, his wings had been practically crushed from Elijah's weight, blood was trickling steadily from his throat and he was having a difficult time breathing as a result.

Verial gazed up at the ceiling of his room as if hoping it would hold some answer for him. He was not sure where Elijah was, but after hearing the door slam, Verial knew the undead werewolf was gone to do whatever. Verial wasn't sure that he cared anymore.

Some Protector Regent you turned out to be.

For some time, Verial lay on the floor of his chambers, realizing now just how cold the marble tile of the floor was. Verial couldn't count the minutes since Elijah left him there in agony, but he fought back every ounce of that black void that threatened to wash over him. As he pondered what the hell he could do, Verial heard the sound of the door opening and then closing once more. His sensitive hearing picked up on something. This was not Elijah. The feet that crossed over the floor of his room were different. They moved with a certain sort of elegance and carried themselves with grace. Thoughts of Sahar or perhaps his defiant mother Sorvynia who may have stayed behind crossed his mind. But all these ideas, however hopeful they might have been, were crushed as he stilled and saw who it was.

"What did you do with Deanna?" Verial said as he looked up into the onyx colored eyes of whoever was controlling Deanna's body. It was then that he noticed this woman, this Dark Mistress, was protectively cradling the obsidian colored scale Verial had left on Deanna's grave. A sickening feeling mingling with the pain found its way to his stomach.

This... this was not going to turn out well at all.

By some stroke of luck, Elias had made it to Grand City. The Northwatch docked at Hinewai Harbor and by the time he was able to sneak out of his hiding space, Elias was cramped up from the journey from having been scrunched up so long. He left the lower cabins, creeping across the deck and climbed down over the side of the Northwatch by use of a rope making sure that no one saw the crafty stow-away. The mysterious astronomer had just landed on the port and walked about ten feet ahead when the ship he was on exploded and burst into flames. Elias leapt and rolled out of the way, ducking and pressing his stomach flat to the ground as the flaming wreckage from the Northwatch fell into the nearly black depths of the ocean.

Once he was sure that it was safe to lift his head, Elias saw tendrils off dark magic swarming the city from some unknown source. It was only then that he realized the travesty that the city was in. Screams and shouts could be heard from not far off, fire was wildly flickering on rooftops and any blood that had been spilt was making its way to the harbor. Eventually Elias pushed himself up with the aid of his bo staff realizing that although the city was under a large amount of distress, it could still be saved.

Although the city and castle were under siege, Hinewai Harbor was relatively quiet. At the moment, it was perhaps the safest place he could have been. Elias rolled up the long sleeves of his coat and thrust out his forearms. On the inside of his arms there were markings - tattoos to be exact. On his right forearm there was a red sun and then an orange colored oak leaf, both of them separated and surrounded by a thin circle. On the other arm there was a light blue snowflake and a green tree, both symbolized in the fashion as the other arm. On first appearance, these tattoos were monochromatic colored, but as Elias touched the snowflake symbol rubbing his thumb across it gently, the symbol began to glow a faint blue.

"It's me... King Alerion - I mean, Elias," the boy said.

A few silent minutes passed and then finally there was a voice that spoke back to him seemingly out of nowhere. It was as if a small fairy was whispering into his ear.

"Elias? It is not safe to be in Grand City. Why have you left Vandual?"

"I was tired of hiding, but that is not important now. What's important now is that the city needs my help - our help. Without you... I cannot save it. It feels as if some higher force is at work here."

"Sharay..." the voice said as the name trailed into a venomous hiss. "That foolish wretch. Get close to the castle. Take heed of your surroundings and I will meet you there. Please... be safe."

"I shall," Elias said.

Elias' arms fell back to his sides, covering the tattoos he had used to communicate with the Goddess of Winter, Elysia. With that, the Vandual youth who was somehow connected to King Alerion ran from the port through the city to make way to the castle. It was a dangerous path, but unbeknownst to many, the seemingly innocent blonde haired teenager had years and years of training. More than anyone would have expected or thought possible. His origins... well they were strange indeed.

The response to the destruction of the Northwatch was immediate, but nothing that would have been expected. After all, the Redmont wasn't known to use magic. But nonetheless, the clouds that swirled almost mockingly in the skies above Grand City were damning evidence that dawn, with the disadvantage it would put Maxim at... was not coming. On that day, the sun would not rise and therefore...

The Redmont, who had survived the Northwatch's destruction, had all the time in the world.

For the first several minutes, there was no change in the horrific scene that plagued Grand City. Then, the first shouts of blood-curdling surprise began and the presence that had reached out to him would realize that he was coming... and had used her 'call,' as it were, to hunt her down. The vampire spared none in his path, which were mostly lycanthropes -- they fell even as they began to flee, shredded by thrown daggers when he couldn't reach them with the sword that he was using to cut apart the slower savages. Blood was splattered in sufficiently terrifying fashion across the once-gray sections of his armor, and the fact that blood dripped from his chin even then was a revelation in and of itself: not only was he emboldened by the fact that there was absolutely no hope of dawn cutting his retaliation short, but he had fed... and the most likely source was also the culprit behind the sorcery keeping the sun itself at bay. A certain red-haired Ravenholm sorceress, who had also used the skeleton crew of the Northwatch as a chance to stow away. One thing was for certain: when the warship was raised, he was going to have a long discussion with the crew about the completely real necessity of security that exceeded that of a kindergarten playground.

One lycanthrope was far too slow, and that blade came across in an underlying arc with relentless speed driving it -- it had been probably far too long since he had felt that kind of rage. As the crippled beast struggled to pull itself away, its legs rendered useless, Maxim's hands gripped its skull tightly enough that bone began to crack under the pressure. "Your leader, beast -- tell me her name," the vampire hissed, the bright scarlet glow of his eyes lifting as some of the wolves turned, torn between helping their own and fleeing the battle-ready Redmont. One stepped forward, as two others faltered and fell back -- the grin that drew back across Maxim's blood-spattered face was nothing short of venomous. The final crunch of his captive's skull being crushed was punctuated by the soft sound of metal contacting that paved stone beneath their feet -- it was a silver blade, embedded in the beast's heart. "She will kill you for this, vampire! But before that, I know Elijah will make you wish for death..."

Maxim was much, much faster than that lycanthrope, and the decapitated creature was the last body on the street to fall.

Now he reached out, on purpose. The fact that he felt something so unfamiliar, something that had laid beyond the end of time for untold eons was enough to confirm what he had already suspected, that Deanna was gone: the attempt to raise her had resulted in some kind of cosmic wrong connection, and something else had apparently been able to answer the call. Something else, that Deanna hadn't ever even told him about... and now, he knew why. The brush was invasive, brave even for the Redmont, and his voice in her mind was as mocking as the darkened skies overhead.

Dawn isn't coming, ancient one. But I am, and if I am to burn in Hell, then know I will drag you down screaming, along with me.

The connection was broken as abruptly as it had formed, and in his empowered state, he blocked her out. With any luck, she wouldn't be able to focus on him long enough to break that mental barricade, as there were already enough threats rallying in the Grand City against her. The path that he now took was enough to prove that, as it provided him with a view of the western courtyard, where he could already see two familiar forms fighting against the sudden rise of Chaos itself, using every host it could find as a living, breathing weapon against the defenders of Aleris. Sahar was immediately recognizable, shielding her own unlikely protector with her magic as best she could, when he wasn't tearing into whatever drew near. Alastair Bluefield, in his beastly form, was by her side -- and if that didn't speak for the character of the resistance against the tyrannical corruption possessing his former friend, nothing did.

If they saw him, they didn't have time to make note; he was already moving again once it became obvious that they were capable enough. The sudden resurgence by the entity as it sent wave after wave of both controlled, corrupted Alerisian and her own fallen soldiers was enough to make the Redmont realize that there was no chance of him actually making it to Deanna, or the otherworldly influence posing as Deanna, rather.

Instead, he quickly chose an alternate target. It was then that he saw a glimpse of another unlikely ally, this time in the form of Darius Redmont. Again, Maxim didn't stop -- if anything, he had faith in Darius' ability to recognize the threat posed... or he wouldn't have been there fighting, in the first place. It wasn't the first Redmont seen in the city, and in truth was one of a few that had all come to Grand City for their own reasons, which were now quickly glossed over by the perception of a common threat. It was his sister, however, that he came to the defense of. Ainsley Redmont, as powerful as she had ever been, was being stalked through the ruins by a pair of lycanthropes who had been further repaired and enhanced by the unearthly Chaos that held Aleris in its grasp. The first was torn apart by a blast of energy from Ainsley's hands, but the sudden, sharp cry of the second was a surprise. With both animals down, the former slayers were reunited. "Elijah Bluefield was never just your problem, Ainsley."

The words harkened back to a much earlier discussion they had shared, long before he had even taken up residence on Arthuran. He had given up on the civil war perpetuated by both sides of their family, and Ainsley had her own reasons for disagreement -- but that was the past. In the present, family was a luxury most didn't have, and it made the Redmont aware once more of whom he had always known would stand with him. And that only brought up the bitter reminder, that he still had one friend who was very much in the proverbial eye of the storm. "Verial Akilara is still inside, and I don't think he's faring well against that... abomination. If you'd be so kind as to make an entrance for me, sister, I'll make sure you can hear Elijah's last screams out here," Maxim promised, which was the best he could offer, under those circumstances. Still, Ainsley was far older than he was and thus, he had a feeling she understood the magnitude of the threat better than most.

Moments passed, and Maxim Redmont soon moved through the smoke and dust left by Ainsley's dark magic tearing a hole into the castle itself, and the sense of panic in the streets from earlier was now enough to cause every lycanthrope to start fleeing as the first howls of agony echoed in those bloodstained halls. One scrambled around a corner, just in time to be lifted from the ground by some unseen force -- and then split in half by a curved, wicked blade that was changing with Maxim's own movement. Currently, the Serpentasm -- overkill, as its effects were intended to destroy a range of foes -- was being wielded as a scythe, and the victim's remains were scattered across the floor in a mess of carnage that had been flesh, blood marring fragmented shards of bone.

"Elijah Bluefield! Your end is nigh, beast -- come and face me, unless you would prefer to cower while I hunt you through these halls, like the pitiful pup you are," Maxim roared, as he kicked aside the bodies of those lycanthropes loyal to the Bluefield who now served as one of Deanna's generals. They weren't true Bluefields, from what he had seen -- though it was clear that they had definitely learned the finesse of retreating in stunned horror from Elijah himself, who had apparently mastered that art a long, long time ago. But tonight, there would be no retreating -- there was only going to be one outcome, and that was the brutally violent death of Elijah Bluefield.

Vengeance was a step in the right direction, and that first step required nothing less.

And so, Bariston's avenging commander stood tall, surrounded by the bodies of Elijah's most faithful... and he prepared to hunt his quarry down, as the Kinslayer was infamous for.

The woman left the insane discord, the result of unleashed Chaos, behind her as she entered the castle. Almost immediately a wall of living plasma, thick and iridescent black, encompassed the entire structure that was crumbling into ruin. The ancient Goddess of Chaos and Death called Sharay, embodied in the physical form of her Beloved Child made her way slowly in the empty hallways of the castle corridors until she spotted Elijah Bluefield, her consort. A smile crept upon her full lips until she noted her wolf was bleeding from a wound inflicted onto his thigh. The smile faded immediately and her brow furrowed as she found herself standing before him, laying a gentle hand against his massive jaw.

“It hurts.” It was not a question, merely the simple truth but the undead werewolf did not acknowledge the pain he was in. Nimble fingers glided through fur as they crept down his torso until finding the wound they sought. Small tendrils of indigo energy escaped from her fingertips to attach themselves against bleeding flesh until the skin under fur once more knitted together to become whole. Sharay smiled to her wolf as she sensed his relief. “All better now, my wolf.”

The Goddess took one sharp clawed hand and laid it against her smooth ivory cheek before placing a light kiss upon the roughly padded palm. “I will not be long, love.” It was the first time Sharay used the term of endearment toward Elijah, yet she meant that simple word. Despite her intentions with Verial, Sharay would not replace her Elijah with the drow hybrid King. She released her wolf and nodded to him as he stepped to the side, a brief flicker of jealousy was evident in his eyes, but disappeared quickly as his Mistress smiled to him one final time before entering the room, the door closing softly behind her.

There he was, lying upon the floor of his own chambers, battered, bloodied and broken. Her fingers caressed the obsidian scale around her neck lovingly as she regarded Verial with what could be taken for pity. She crouched down near him, a slight quirk of her lips in amusement, pointedly ignoring his question about her fallen Beloved. “It would appear you’ve had an accident.” There was a smile in her voice as she spoke, knowing damn well who was responsible for Verial’s present state. Sharay cast a glance at Verial’s broken arm and with a sigh of impatient, slid her hands under his arms. “On your feet now,” and without hesitating, she forced Verial to stand despite the intense pain he was in, the groan that escaped from parted lips. The King swayed on his feet for a moment before managing to steady himself without her aid.

“Tell me something, Verial. Have you ever been betrayed by one you love? Have you ever been abandoned by the one you loved most in this world?” The question was rhetorical for she truly did not expect Verial to answer her as he watched her with guarded odd colored eyes, wincing at the barest of touch from the Goddess as she carefully removed his armor and shirt with nimble ease before tossing the bloodied and ruined items aside. “I suppose when I chose not to save the useless spawn of hers and that treacherous lech Kain, that it…upset her somewhat.” Sharay shrugged as she glided her fingers down his broken forearm, easing some of the pain as she allowed some of the dark power to knit together the bones that Elijah had broken in Verial’s forearm. Once completed, the Goddess gently tested his wings and found them still of use.

“There,” she proclaimed. “Not so bad, now is it? As you see, I can be quite kind.” Verial gave her an incredulous look before laughing in her face, unable to believe the arrogance and unstable nature of this Goddess. She offered a withered icy glare as she considered inflicting more damage upon him for such insolence, but instead gave a charming smile instead.

“In any case,” she continued on as she backed Verial near his bed and with her hands upon his shoulders, forced him to sit “I assume this little unsavory act hit a nerve with my Deanna,” her tone grew sharper, more hostile as she stood before a befuddled Verial who stared at her with those odd colored eyes in complete silence. Pain masked across his face and his jaw was starting to swell, but he remained still, warily watching the Goddess as she vented her spleen, wondering what the Dark Mistress wanted with him. “You would think,” She muttered, “That the wretch would have been grateful I chose her above all else, but no. How does she repay me for my kindness?” She shook her head sadly, hoping to play upon his sympathies, but from the quirk of his brows and the stony glare in his eyes, she knew he wasn’t biting.

Sharay finally smiled. “You ask what I did with Deanna, dear pathetic Verial.” A cold smile decorated her lips. “I sought her out in the afterlife that the bitch Elysia so thoughtfully placed her in, and I took what was owed to me. I took her. She swore allegiance to me and broke that vow. So I broke her, as I am going to break you.” Those last words at least gathered some response of fear from Verial for the first time. She could see it in his eyes.

“A better question, my sweet broken King, would be what exactly I am going to do with you.” Sharp even white teeth were bared as Sharay grinned at Verial as he stood suddenly, his hands curled into fists though he made no attempt to strike at her. He uttered something under gritted teeth, but the Goddess paid him no heed.

“Which I would think would be obvious, even to someone as you.” She stood at the foot of the bed, regarding him with intensity in those bottomless pits of onyx eyes of hers. “Though Deanna’s body sustains me well enough for now, Verial, your particular pedigree is something I would simply love to have to myself. And I will.”

The drow hybrid was stunned, the implication of her words hitting him heavily, but as she hadn’t quite stated exactly what her plan of attack was…yet…he waited for Sharay’s full explanation.

The Goddess clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace in front of Verial. “You see, as you fully know, dragons are incredibly strong creatures quite capable of withstanding almost anything. Combined with your unique angelic heritage,” she gestured toward those magnificent black wings that sprouted from his shoulder blades, “and your keen drow internal senses, these qualities together create quite a powerful being. Now,” she smiled with great and waved her hand with great flourish. “Add those to the weretiger, a powerful beast in its own right and my animal to call, thank you,” She noted Verial staring at the intricate ash colored stripes that decorated her body, “and you have one spectacular being who is more than capable of bringing my full powers to the surface.”

Sharay paused then, shaking her head sadly. “As strong as Deanna’s body is, it isn’t stable or capable enough to channel my full strength without destroying it. I did not come so far with all my scheming and plotting to simply destroy this form that I worked so hard on preserving.” The Dark Mistress of Chaos and Death glanced down at the borrowed body. “It isn’t nearly as lovely as my original form, which is truly beyond compare if I do say so, but it will suffice.” Another devilish grin was offered to Verial. “I’m sure you will be able to work with Deanna’s body, won’t you Verial? My Beloved, though never vain, was always rather easy on the eyes, wouldn’t you agree, Verial?” A low throaty chuckle was heard from the Goddess as Verial turned his head away, a blush staining his bruised cheeks. “I thought so.”

The angelic drow finally gave her the full weight of his unsettling gaze. “No.”

She blinked, unused to such abrupt rejection. “Oh come now! This is a generous opportunity I’m offering you, King. You get to have a few moments of fun with an old friend, and in turn, a vessel will be created that eventually I will inhabit. I shall be reborn again into a more suitable life form” Sharay sighed then. “Of course I shall have to wait until her gestation period is over. Humans,” she uttered in disgust.

“Regardless, I will be busy ruling over Aleris as its Queen and Goddess and with that the time should pass by rather quickly, don’t you think?” Her smile was maddening, and Verial regarded her with unhidden horror to which she laughed at. “Oh do not concern yourself, dear! Once conception has taken place, I would not even dream of asking you to stick around. In fact, once you’ve given me your seed, I’ll have no further use for you. I have Elijah at my side as my consort. You can be on your merry little way for all I care.” Onyx orbs narrowed into mean slits. “Unless you are truly the fool and attempt to stop me, and if so, I shall be very cross with you Verial. As will Elijah.” Her features transformed once more. All traces of anger disappeared leaving her calm.

“Now, shall we begin?” She did not wait for a response. “Depart,” she whispered and at once the inky coils of Chaos that had wrapped around her form, or rather Deanna’s, that served as clothing, began slithering against her skin until finally leaving the Goddess naked as the day her Beloved was born. The smile that she offered was nothing short of nefarious.

“Now, my King…let’s make a baby.”

Verial nearly choked and backed away a few steps, shaking his head as he was unwilling to accept what Sharay had in store for him. He turned his head away, refusing to look upon her naked body in its entire splendor. “Forget it. You might as well kill me now.”

At that precise moment, the Goddess heard a voice inside her head and her fury grew as she believed it to be the invading force of Blend once more.

Dawn isn't coming, ancient one. But I am, and if I am to burn in Hell, then know I will drag you down screaming, along with me.

Sharay’s eyes turned to icy obsidian glass, her lips hardened into a thin line. The vampire still lived and what was more, was arrogant enough to threaten her. She would tear his undead heart out with her bare hands and feast upon it. That delicious thought was distracted by the sound of something tearing through the very fabric of her dark magic, of Chaos.

Impossible.

“Elijah!” She called from within the chambers. “There are intruders. Kill them, my wolf.” Sharay turned once more to face Verial, knowing Elijah would comply and rid them of anyone who dared defied his Mistress’ will. Verial was strangely calm, almost as if knowing the Goddess’ defeat was near. Her lips twisted into a cruel mocking smile. “I’ve had enough games. You will give me what I want, little King.”

A ball of energy burst from Sharay’s hand and sent Verial flying against the bed where he landed on his back. Shaken and stunned, the drow attempted to sit up, but the Goddess was far faster than he, landing atop him with a graceful pounce. “Now where do you think you’re going?” She grinned as Verial gripped her by her wrists and flipped both of them so that it was she pinned under his weight. His face was beet red at the very thought of Deanna naked and squirming under him, but he forced himself to pointedly ignore that fact and focused on restraining her.

“I’ve already told you. This is not going to happen. Not now. Not ever. You are not Deanna.”

The Goddess let out a slow even breath and turned her head away from his odd colored gaze, her eyes closing. She could have forced herself upon him, but that would leave him the victim in the end. No, Sharay had a much better plan of attack. When she finally stilled and faced him, her eyes opened, warm molted amber locked against his gaze. The sharp planes of her face softened, and she had to restrain herself from laughing as Verial sucked in a sharp breath.

“But I can be.”

With a swift tug, she freed one of her arms so that her hand came to rest upon Verial’s cheek. “You want me, or rather her. Do not deny it, for I can smell it on you.” She brushed her fingers lightly down his face, tracing his wounded jaw until they ran across his lower lip. Verial went utterly still, unsure of how to react at this sudden change. “It’s ok. Don’t be afraid.” This time she didn’t have to use much force to free her other arm, her fingers finding their way into the raven black hair at the base of his neck. She nudged his head closer, and though he resisted at first he did not fight her as she coaxed his head to lower, his mouth descending upon hers. However long Verial was lost in her sweet kiss was unknown, but in that time span, the Goddess masquerading as Deanna had managed to divest him of his boots and breeches. It was when his bare skin touched hers, and he could feel his own body betraying him as he grew hard against her, did he pull away abruptly.

“No,” The word was firmly spoken, but his voice was ragged as if fighting against himself, against basic human desire.

This did not deter Sharay and she wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her body against his so that he could feel the warm heat that awaited him. “Yes.” She drew his head once more toward her so that she could taste of his mouth, her tongue tracing against his bottom lip. Those amber orbs sought his and there was no disguising the heated lust. The drow King hung his head, his eyes closing as he seemingly accepted defeat against her, and himself. With one quick thrust he had entered her as he crushed her mouth against his, their bodies entwined in maddening dance of desire.

His wings, magnificent and as black as the hair upon his head, spread out wide to hover over the two as their tempo increased, lost in this particular moment. Ages ticked by, or so it seemed, and just as she knew her own body was ready, she felt Verial’s tense as both were seconds away from release.

He slid his hands down her body and gripped at her hips, as he thrust deeper inside of her, the pent up explosive feel that started in his core began to spread and she knew he was so very close as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, his breath coming in shallow gasps. A smile touched her lips and when she opened her eyes, once more those pits of onyx were there, replacing the amber Verial found himself lost inside, betrayed by. Sharay slid her arms around his back, her palms resting on his shoulder blades near the ebon wings that grew. Their frenzied movements quickened and she heard Verial murmur something against the pulse on her throat, presumably meant for the woman whose body she had stolen. It did not matter. In that moment, her back arched, her head thrown back as her eyes closed and the Goddess screamed her pleasure, as did Verial as she felt his seed fill her womb.

Bodies slick with sweat were still entwined as both rode their pleasure out, but Sharay wasn’t quite finished with Verial. An offering to Chaos had to be made in order to appease, in order for her need for rebirth to take shape. As Verial was caught up in the moment of sheer bliss, the Goddess slit at her wrist with a sharp curved claw, her life’s blood flowing sluggishly down Verial’s spine, unbeknownst to him. Low chanting began and as she gripped Verial tightly against her body, her claws digging into his lower back as Chaos took its offering. It was only the smell that filled the air, the smell of burning feathers that tipped Verial off something horrible was happening to him. The King began to panic as he came to the realization of what was happening, and tried forcing Sharay off him. Her grip was strong and she just chuckled softly and clung harder to him as his remarkable angelic wings were consumed in the indigo blackness that was Chaos, bright blue flames were ignited as his wings burned down to bare skin, the flesh charred and blackened before the flames died and Verial slumped against the bed in agony. Verial kept his tears to himself, kept the screams that strangled in the back of his throat silent. His pain was his own, his back was on fire, but he would be damned if he gave the Goddess the satisfaction of knowing the anguish she caused to him from the moment this war started.

“Shh…there, there,” Sharay patted his at his back with feigned sympathy, in particular the blacked ruined flesh where his wings once rooted, the action forcing a sharp cry out of Verial. “Sacrifices must be made for the greater good, my sweet Verial. You have ensured my success of new life and eventually rebirth. You should be proud of yourself.” A mocking chuckle was heard as she shoved Verial from her body, the drow King rolled onto his side, choking on his pain in silent shaking fury.

Sharay stood in all of her perfection, her arms held out before her as the dark mists swirled once more around her lush form to clothe her, black tendrils wrapping around her waist and legs to form the sheer skirt she wore, slithering around her torso to cover her breasts. With a slight yawn, she glanced boredly at Verial who had served his purpose, a broken heap of a man who glared at her with ravaged eyes.

“Oh do spare me that look, Verial.” She sneered at him cruelly. “You were enjoying yourself moments ago, now weren’t you?” Much to Verial’s dismay and shame, he winced as those odd colored eyes closed even as he struggled to sit upright. “That’s right, fallen King of Aleris. You took your pleasure here in this very bed chamber, whilst your kingdom burns, your people massacre each other. Chaos has triumphed while you were busy fucking a woman who no longer exists.”

Sharay threw her head back and laughed, savoring each drop of Verial’s anguish."I could hear her, you know, screaming." She tapped at her temple. "She doesn't even know why she is, but I heard her nevertheless." Her cruelty knew no bounds as she added, "Probably sickened from coupling with you. It's the vampire she always wanted, you know. Not you. Never you."

The Goddess’ laughter died and her eyes went impossibly wide. Stricken with great fear, she turned suddenly, a faraway look in her eyes as if seeing or feeling something that was taking place outside of the King’s chambers. Sharay gasped, once, twice, a soft cry coming from parted lips and she dropped to her knees and screamed her rage at the immense suffering she was experiencing. The sensation of having her skin flayed from bone, of being torn limb from limb, of her life’s blood flowing to puddle at the feet of one vengeful vampire.

Elijah.