Djarin didn't understand. The man had taken the revelation - the shock of it was clear in his eyes. But it was clear he still viewed Djarin as the enemy, going so far as to place himself between Djarin and the others.

The nomad had climbed up on the roof when Victor offered his hand, and now looked back at Fingers and the two black sea-beasts. Fingers looked equally perplexed, and confusion led to anger in the rowdy sailor. His eyes were pits of deadly fury. Djarin was surprised how quickly this man could get himself riled up.

"What now?" he asked Fingers in the Tral tongue.

"Let's kill him." Fingers eyes glinted violently as he stared towards Victor.

"No," Djarin replied sternly. "He.. knows.. Maybe he will need some time."

Djarin wasn't looking for a fight. Besides, his curiosity was now peaked to an extreme. Victor stood before him, preventing him from spreading the truths Victor now knew in his heart. Perhaps the man held other truths, truths which blunted the effects of the revelation. What truths, then? Djarin wondered for the first time if he was being led down the wrong path, not a path of salvation and divinity, but rather a path of destruction and pain.

Victor was a threat, but Djarin didn't understand how. Would there be more who resisted his visions? Djarin glanced at the trio behind Victor, wondering. Then he looked back to Victor himself. The man seemed changed, his eyes wide and wild. Perhaps he was still absorbing the knowledge Djarin gave him. For all Djarin knew, Victor would come around eventually to the revelation and convert these others.

Instead of moving, Djarin simply stood there, staring at the group. Fingers spoke up behind him, the sailor still in the water: "He's telling them to stay away from you. To not touch you." Then Quinn spoke for the first time. "This other guy wants us to leave."

"Tell them that I must show the others these revelations.. He will move aside or we will make him. Better yet, just tell him the first part."

Fingers translated the message, though he didn't edit it as Djarin asked, preferring the violent implication. Ternal the dragon dipped under the waves and vanished, no doubt to warn the other dragons nearby of the potential for conflict. Djarin hoped that Victor would step aside and let him show the other three, but something whispered in his mind that this man was stubborn. Not only stubborn, but deadly.

He weighed his options. Fight or flight. All he needed to do was press his palm against their skin to show them, to change them. But Victor was shaking his convictions, making him uncertain. Would the others be as stubborn, as blind to the truths as Victor? Perhaps Tempesturos' cards aren't the only ones on the table.

Thirty tense seconds passed as Djarin studied these people. Around the sides of the inn, black fins broke the water, circling like sharks, as the oceanic dragons Ternal summoned approached. In the distance, twenty men and women still waited on the rooftop of a market building, what was left of Euphorias' city guard climbing onto the backs of nearby Kharl'at, their swords and shields glinting in the light. Things were really starting to heat up.

The sun beat down on them, happy to oblige.

It has been said that the male species uses logic and reasoning far more than females who seem to follow their emotions and instinct. Men are the more rational of the sexes, or so her father once told her. He was dead now, and quite frankly, she never believed a word out of that man's mouth anyway.

Deanna could feel the hostility radiate on her skin, surprisingly though, it wasn't her own. Victor had encouraged the stranger known as Djarin to join them on their rooftop, a gesture of goodwill. The one-eyed man had come willingly to their little group with his translator and dragons in tow. Whether the foreigners were friends or foes would remain to be seen.

As Victor's hand connected with Djarin's, something had taken place between the two, something intangible and the mage scrambled backwards, shouting commands out of what Deanna could discern was fear. Whatever mental images the strange man came to 'reveal' to the group had frightened the mage to the point that he shoved at Wish who stepped forward to see what was happening, in a blind fit of panic.

The therianthrope female said nothing as this little scene played out, quietly standing on the sidelines for a change to assess this situation. Normally Deanna was one to act first, dealing with the consequences of her rash behavior later, if at all, but for some reason, she willed herself to remain calm. Emotions were running high now, especially with the men. Deanna glanced at Wish, hoping the young fae woman was handling the situation better than her mage boyfriend.

Then Quinn, whom she always thought of as her better, calmer half spoke in that voice of quiet authority that he possessed, yet Deanna felt the undercurrents of pent up energy that rolled across her skin from her mate. Quinn was, to her shock, spoiling for a fight. Deanna couldn't help but find that sexy as hell, and she even smiled a little.

Deanna watched as Djarin appeared quite perplexed at the reaction he received from Quinn and Victor, though seemingly not as enraged as his translator companion was. Deanna found this interesting. The translator's black rage was evident not only in his eyes, but to Deanna's eyes, even the energy that surrounded the man seemed to darken and crackle. She didn't need to speak the language to understand that the man was encouraging the prophet to attack them, but even more interesting was how Djarin appeared to refuse him, almost desperate for her group to take his message to heart.

The translator then relayed the message from Djarin and Deanna sighed internally, knowing that the implied threat would definitely not bode well for anyone. Time to put an end to this nonsense, for the sun was still burning high in the sky and she could feel her exposed skin start to burn. They needed to leave this rooftop and seek shelter elsewhere. But first...

Deanna placed a slim tanned hand upon her mate's arm which was warm to the touch and already entertaining a pinkish hue. Poor Quinn, she thought. He would need a shirt to go with those ridiculous pants of his. When her mate peered down at her, her lips curved into a gentle smile, those rare offerings reserved only for him. She stepped around Quinn before turning her attention to Victor, a dark brow raising. "I am not yours to command, Sage. I do not take orders from you." Her icy tone booked no nonsense, for even though they were a united front, Deanna was not one who cowed to another's demands.

She settled those fey amber orbs on Victor Sage. "You will not presume to tell me who I can or cannot touch. That right is only reserved for my mate." Actually, even that was debatable, for even Quinn had a hard time impressing his opinion upon her. Deanna was incredibly strong willed and determined when she wanted to be, and very little would sway her when her mind was made up.

She inched forward until she was face to face with Djarin. The one-eyed human wished to spread whatever message, whatever 'revelation' he felt was so important, so vital. So be it. Deanna would receive it, though she did not promise she would heed or follow this strange man in their land. She regarded Djarin for a moment, studying his face, her nostrils flaring some as she caught his scent. He viewed her just as curiously which Deanna found somewhat amusing. After sizing each other up, the shifter finally held out her right hand so that Djarin might place his left upon hers.

Her first thought was that he was warm, extremely warm, but not in an unpleasant way. There was a subtle spreading of heat as it transferred from his palm to hers. Deanna locked her gaze with his as she waited for this great revelation to take place. And waited. Seconds ticked by and seemingly nothing happened.

Or at least, Deanna made sure that outwardly she remained in her calm, almost bored-like appearance. Inside though, was a completely different matter.

Deanna did not receive any visions, no images to burn in the back of her brain. Instead, a fluttering of emotions battered against her soul, nearly bringing her to her knees. Sensations of pain, chaos, destruction swarmed inside of her, fleeing as quickly as they came before pleasure, joy, jubilation took their place. Before Deanna could process one emotion, another would strike at her, and in the end, she was left with regret, sadness and despair and finally....longing.

Slowly she withdrew her hand from Djarin's, holding her gaze with his for another beat or two before finally turning on her heel to take her place back at Quinn's side.

"I don't know what the mage is talking about." Her features were serene and calm as was her voice when she spoke.

"I felt nothing."

Deanna wore her lie well even as she threaded her fingers through Quinn's. Once more her amber orbs caught sight of Djarin, a brief flickering of acknowledgement before she turned her head away. She noted the dragons had moved in position to the sides of the tavern, predators that toyed with their prey.

Deanna sensed that this little meeting would not end well, for either party. She bore this knowledge with a quiet evasiveness. For once, she would let others make the decisions. Whether she chose to follow them...well that was another matter.

A message.

Victor was the first to step forward to Djarin, to take the outsider's hand and receive whatever it was he had to tell. This message, however, was one that did not bode well for Victor. Djarin and Victor stayed with their hands laced together until Victor was recoiling backwards, withdrawing his hand as if he'd been burnt with fire. In a way, perhaps he had.

In his fall backwards, Wish went to Victor only she was knocked to the side by his reaction over the whole thing. She gathered herself once Victor was on the ground staring at Djarin with a certain disobedient glare. After a few minutes, some realization dawned on Victor and he turned towards the trio of Wish, Deanna and Quinn advising them not to touch Djarin, his dark green colored eyes then specifically landing on Wish. It was a warning.

Wish moved towards him and placed two hands on Victor's cheeks and nodded slowly as the mage tried to catch his breath from the flickering visions of Chaos that he had seen from Djarin. While Victor may have felt disorder, pain and destruction from Djarin, from Wish's touch he would feel the exact opposite. Her fingers, as she stroked his cheeks lightly, would be almost healing, trying to let Victor feel some sort of peacefulness.

"It's okay, Victor," Wish said softly and she leaned forward to place a light kiss on his lips. "Stay calm."

Unfortunately, Wish's attention was diverted by Deanna's words which in response to Victor's warning, were defiant and cold. Wish let out an obvious sigh as the shifter stepped forward towards Djarin, her hand reaching out to the one-eyed man. Did Deanna not realize the difference between a command and a warning? Clearly, Deanna was bitter towards Victor and while these feelings may have been justified, the woman was letting her stubbornness - her pride - put her in possible danger. If Victor had told Deanna not to jump in a volcano, Wish imagined Deanna would do the exact opposite.

After Deanna had touched Djarin and took a step back, she claimed that she felt not a thing. Wish looked at the other woman inquisitively, her head slightly tilted. Why was it that she did not believe Deanna? Why was it that she had a feeling the shifter was telling a downright lie and that like Victor, she had felt some inexpressible emotions from touching Djarin's hand?

Biting her lower lip briefly, Wish turned to Victor once Deanna stepped back to move towards Quinn's side. "I need to go, Victor," she said nodding to him, her hands dropping away from the sides of his face. "Please, don't worry." And just to him, almost secretly, she gave him smile that was accompanied by a knowing wink.

Then Wish was standing and she headed towards the edge of the roof where Djarin was. Around them, she noticed the dragons were circling beneath the water, their fins dotting the surface like sharks as if waiting to pounce. She also saw far off in the distance there were a number of row boats dotting the water, decorated with Grand City's castle crests. King Alerion was sending out a rescue crew to bring people back to the castle, but it seemed for now the soldiers remained immobile on their boats at the sight of the dragons, floating in the waters patiently. And then there was the man, the translator and sailor by the looks of it, who stood next to Djarin with obvious anger in his eyes as if he was about to pounce and rip someone apart. Though she could not understand Finger's words in another language, his emotions betrayed his voice and she could tell he was infuriated.

Putting aside all these things she noticed and clearing her mind, Wish reached out and touched Djarin's hand, her fingers encircling his own. Of course, she had felt similar things that Victor and Deanna had felt. Destruction, chaos, and sacrifice. So much sacrifice. Djarin's belief, that people and things must be sacrificed in order to maintain life, to bring about change, bothered her. Her body and mind rejected the idea like a bitter and venomous poison.

It was against her very nature to offer sacrifices. Though she could appreciate the idea of death and life coexisting, she didn't believe there needed to be sacrifices for any of that. She was, in every sense of the word, a spirit of life, someone that was guided by the stars and their heavenly bodies from which she drew her magical energy, her ability to heal. For her to help begin a revolution in the name of Tempesturo, one that required sacrifice, was highly unlikely.

So while she received Djarin's message and understood what it meant, she could not accept it. Likewise, while Wish had taken in his beliefs, Djarin would feel something strange from contact with Wish's hand. The Fae wanted him to know that life could continue and flourish without unnecessary sacrifice. That change could be bought fourth through other ways and that knowledge need not always be obtained through death. For a moment, a warm white light flickered beneath their hands, as if this magic was trying to soothe Djarin's confused thoughts. She was not trying to be intrusive in the slightest; her body had reacted of its own accord and the magic flowed through her fingertips before she could even stop it.

Then just like that, she took a step backwards on the roof and released her hand from Djarin's, nodding to him and then to Fingers for translation.

"I've seen the message you are trying to spread," Wish began, her voice calm, "but I cannot accept or join your way of life. This goes against my very nature. So, as we have taken the time to listen to your message, please understand that such ideas will not be celebrated by all. And as it is... considering the situation," here Wish paused gesturing around them to the destruction of the city and the dead bodies floating in the water around them, "I believe most are not looking to see more death and sacrifice plague these lands."

To his amazement, the women willingly took his hand. Perhaps they were wiser than first appearances suggested, for they not only embraced the revelations but offered their own. Wish pushed something into him, something which forced cracks into the foundations of his firm beliefs. Deep in his mind, something viciously lashed back against these thoughts Wish poured into him. Sacrifice is required! It screamed desperately from within his skull.

Djarin studied her carefully as she spoke. Her convictions were strong, and he knew he couldn't change her. Moreover, he knew she couldn't change him. Where did that put them? At least, he thought to himself, she had taken such truths willingly, with an open mind. There would be no more hostility from him among these people, only an insatiable curiosity.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, blooms of violent sorcery erupted from the waters behind him. He whipped around and barely managed to avoid a red-hot tendril of magic, which charged over his head and harmlessly into the air.

The dragons were attacking! And they weren't assaulting the predictable targets. No - they were attacking Djarin.

Another pulse of magic lashed through the water, sending up steam as it rushed towards Djarin. But this spell was aimed low. Instead of Djarin, it struck Fingers and the Kharl'at he rode in the water. Djarin watched as the man disintegrated into a red mist.

Ternal, the Kharl'at who'd been Djarins' first convert among the dragons, rose from the water. It clicked and purred, the ancient dragon tongue laced with urgency. Words pounded into his mind.

"These are not our Kharl'at! We've been tricked. Into the warren - NOW!"

There was no time to react as lightning ripped through the air, heading straight towards him. Ternal grabbed onto the edge of the rooftop and pulled the mass of his body between Djarin and the incoming attack. As the sorcerous electricity struck, Djarin and Ternal began to dissipate into a black smoke, vanishing into the dragons' warren.

No doubt the four people on the rooftop were perplexed at this sudden and violent change in events. Luckily, the circling dragons had pulled off to attack the group of twenty men and women, and a deadly conflict was playing out thirty yards from the inn. Dragons clashed with dragons as magics pulsed through the waters. Converted humans cried out in agony as enchanted fire seared and tore through their fragile flesh.

The dragons began to vanish, one by one, dissappearing as Ternal had, retreating into their warren. Attackers and defenders alike blinked out. Soon nothing was left but smoke and the littered remains of human bodies, burned and dismembered by sorcery, ninety feet from the tavern.

The fine mist that was once Fingers settled on the tiled roof, a reddish smear of blood that was his last statement in this cruel and hostile world.

--

Djarin groaned. His left hand clutched his stomach in a futile attempt to slow the bleeding. A massive gash ran from the right side of his hip, across his stomach, and up to his left shoulder. Sitting on his knees, Djarin desperately pinched the flaps of skin that were once his abdomen with trembling fingers, sure if he let go that his entrails would pour out onto the cold floor of the dragons' warren.

The dragon Ternal was little better off. Its right wing was destroyed, a mangled mess of bones and black leather, and the beast seemed to be either resting or dead. The corridors of the hallway stretched off as far as he could see on either side, churning walls of smoke littered with black obelisks. Figures moved through the gloom, three-legged demons, the Septorians. Friends or foe, Djarin didn't much care.

His time was almost up, either way.

Looking down at the puddle of blood that was seeping into the ground, Djarin wondered what it would be like. Death. How would he feel? Where would he go? Or would he simply flicker out, like the flame of a candle in a gust of fateful wind?

His head was swimming with dizziness. The pain that he knew he should be feeling was nonexistent, replaced by a shocked monotony, an acceptance of the inevitable. As he lifted his gaze from the crimson puddle, he was shocked to see Fingers.

The apparation was invisible to his good eye - nothing there, at all. But plain as day, his spirit burned before Djarin, red and full of life. The sailor grinned towards him.

"You aint lookin' too good." The ghost chuckled.

"You've seen better days yourself," Djarin offered with a pained grin. His chest and legs were wet with blood, the warm and precious vitae flowing from his body and taking with it his life.

"Yeah, well, it's not as bad as it seems. My sacrifices are all done. Here, let me help you up." Fingers strode over to Djarin and offered him a hand. Djarin looked down at the wound in his stomach, wondering if he should let go, let his innards spill out and follow this ghost into the afterlife. But the ghost chuckled. "Not that hand, idiot."

Djarin looked over to his dismembered right hand. Like he'd noticed earlier that day, his fingers existed in spirit, burning bright despite the missing hand that once housed that ethereal energy. He reached out and took the spirits hand in his, and rose unsteadily to his feet.

"We don't have much time," Fingers explained, looking down the corridor of the warren. "The other dragons will be here soon, the ones that want you dead. But you've got something to do. Remember what that dragon Ternal said, last time we were here?"

Djarin didn't understand why any of this would matter, but he figured he would humor the spirit. "It said a lot of things."

"It said that this warren is built in Chaos. That beyond these walls of smoke and mirrors, there's the true lifeblood of Tempesturo."

The ghost vanished, leaving Djarin to mull over his words. His knees weak, Djarin stared at the wall of the warren. It was featureless, a churning wall of blackish smoke. Obelisks pierced it regularily. Djarin noted that the teal cracks that he'd seen with his ruined eye were spreading, and a ghastly smoke drifted from the obelisks. Chaos was destroying them.

Chaos will destroy us all, Djarin thought. Better now than later.

Leaving a trail of bloodied footprints, the Seer walked into the churning wall of smoke and into the chaos beyond.

Wish swore she saw a sort of understanding in Djarin's eyes after she spoke. Such an idea would have been wonderful and the thought of a possible hostile attack flickered away from her for seconds. And after those seconds passed, any hopes of no violence had betrayed her. The dragons that had been once circling the waters were now lashing out against the desert people that had come to Grand City.

Magic from the dragons spiraled into the air and blasted through the water. Wish spun on her heels away from Djarin and ducked onto her stomach on the ground. It was just in time as Fingers, now dead, had fallen forward where she once was, disappearing into a fine mist and then leaving a puddle of blood along the roof. Wish watched in amazement and confusion, her olive colored eyes searching for any feral magic that might hurt her companions on the roof. It seemed that the dragons were not interested in the quarter of Deanna, Quinn, Wish and Victor however. Instead, the desert traveler's had been betrayed by the very dragons that helped them get to Grand City.

When it was all over, Djarin the one-eyed man was gone. Wish saw him disappear into thin air with the assistance of one of the other dragons that didn't seem to join in on the attacks. Where the twenty or so desert men and woman once stood on an opposite roof now held their remains: ashes from magical pulses of fire, blood and what she gathered from her vantage point was pieces of torn flesh and limbs that had been ripped clean.

As she cautiously pushed herself up, seeing as how all the dragons were gone, Wish found herself wondering what on earth happened. Had the magic that sparked between her and Djarin caused some sort of reaction? No. It couldn't have been... She rubbed at her temples and sat down on the roof with Victor, Quinn and Deanna joining her. They were all equally in the same state of shock, letting the next few hours pass on in silence.

The only thing that jarred her, and the others, from her trance was a thumping sound against the roof of the tavern. The waters that had once been eerily still were now occupied by Alerian soldiers on boats who had come to rescue people that were stranded on rooftops. Standing in unison, the four of them were greeted by what looked to be a high ranking captain of the Royal Guard. Around him in other boats sat a great number of people that appeared to be sick, hurt or just plain frightened from everything – the storms, the tidal waves and now the dragons.

"You folks okay?" he asked. Though the man's question was an understatement, his words felt generally concerned. His eyes then turned to Victor, noticing his similar soldier uniform, and nodded. "What happened here?"

After Victor would explain the situation to the fellow member of the Alerian guard, there was not much left to stay for on the tavern roof. Climbing into the boats with so many others, the quartet was at long last headed to higher ground, ushered off to King Alerion's castle. The boat ride back to the castle took longer than she expected it to and most people had been crying along the way, not wanting to see the dead floating alongside the boats.

Since the castle was built alongside a hill and up a great number of stairs, the water had barely filled the first floor of the palace. The small fleet of boats, about 12 or so in number, docked alongside the main doors of the castle and people stepped out with the help of the soldiers into shallow water. The entire group waded into the castle's main entrance looking around puzzled for a moment. King Alerion was nowhere to be found, but there were more guards that started to lead the refugees into different directions to rooms that had been opened up on the second, third and fourth floors.

As Wish turned to look at Deanna and Quinn, she noticed they were gone, most likely led to their own room. She couldn't help but let out a small smirk, hoping Deanna could control herself and wouldn't tear apart any soldiers during her visit. Wish assumed that not all the guards were like the ones in Deanna's tavern just a week or two ago. In fact, she guessed that some of them generally wanted to serve and protect the Alerian citizens and their king.

She was once more roused from her thoughts as her and Victor were directed away from the castle's main hall by a single soldier. Wish thought it was strange that she was allowed to accompany Victor, being as how he was now a soldier, she assumed they would want him to offer assistance. Maybe, just maybe, the Alerian guard would allow the both of them to catch up on some much needed rest. They certainly needed it. Following alongside of Victor, the hopeful thought of a bed haunted her mind, like so many others that had come to the castle. One could dream anyway.

If Djarin had indeed wished to spread chaos to the masses, his wish had been granted, though it was unlikely in the way he had desired.

Deanna's mind was a tumultuous storm as she struggled to comprehend what had taken place shortly after Wish had reached for the prophet's hand, for shortly after it seemed that all hell had broken lose between Djarin and his supposed dragon allies.

Suddenly the waters had began to gurgle and churn, and Deanna felt a strange searing heat ripple in the air around them before Quinn had shouted his order for their small group to get down. Without warning, she felt her mate's strong arms grab at her and threw her down against the rooftop, laying his lean form on top of her to shield her from whatever dangers that approached. Her head struck against the flooring made of stone and wood, and as Quinn covered her face with his large hands, her vision became obstructed and all she could do was to listen to the sounds of screams of disorderly panic and fear.

Chaos.

She had felt the roof shake near her and as she peered out from Quinn's fingers, she could see that Victor had followed Quinn's actions and was protecting Wish. She could see a faint shimmer around them and could only assume that another barrier of protection had been formed by the mage. Quinn's breath was warm against her face and she could feel his body tense against her as he reassured her that all would be well, not to move until he said so. For once, Deanna didn't argue with her mate.

Silence finally arrived, and with that silence she felt Quinn slowly rise, his head swiveling left and right before he rose to his feet, helping Deanna to hers. Out of the corner of her eye she took note that Wish and Victor had also risen and were staring out at the pandemonium as well. Deanna tried not to gag at the scent of charred corpses and blood that hung like a heavy perfume around them. Smoke clouded their vision and Deanna nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Wish cry out. She whipped her head around and saw the blood smear of what remained of Fingers not too far from where they stood. A testimony to how close they had been to death.

Deanna swallowed hard, her face ashen. Quinn placed his arms around her and held her tightly, reminding her that it was over now. They were alive and that was all that mattered. As she clutched at her mate, Deanna saw through the haze of smoke what looked like a falcon perched on the edge of the rooftop. The bird stared at her silently, its head cocked to the side as it watched her with uncanny green eyes. After a moment, the bird screeched and to the air it took, its wings flapping violently as it took off for parts unknown.

Deanna withdrew from Quinn's embrace and without thinking, rushed to where Victor and Wish stood huddled together. As the two parted, the shifter threw her arms around the smaller fae woman and hugged her tightly. The action might have startled Wish, for Deanna wasn't exactly one to express her emotions in such a caring manner, especially to those other than Quinn. Her eyes red and tearful (something she would attribute to the acrid smoke, never to crying), she scanned the fae to make sure she was well before turning to Victor who stared at her in silent amazement.

Deanna didn't quite embrace Victor in the manner she had Wish, but she did place a hand upon his forearm and attempted a smile. "You were right." Was all she said to him, but those few words spoke volumes. It was as much as a peace offering as she was going to offer Victor before taking her place once more at Quinn's side.

They could stay on this rooftop no longer for it wasn't safe. Wish had offered the suggestion of heading to Alerion's palace, and all nodded in agreement. If they were to seek any sort of refuge, the security of the palace would be their best bet. Sharing the duties, the four of them grabbed what supplies they had managed to find as they prepared for what they hoped was their final destination in this whole mess. Even as they agreed upon this, Aleris guards appeared in boats, and after speaking to Victor regarding their situation, it was decided they would join the masses en route to Alerion's castle.

With her clay jars of water in hand, Deanna turned to glance out at the water that still rippled and churned with the magic of the dragons. She gazed out at the azure sea water and wondered what had become of Djarin. Had he been destroyed by the dragons in an uprising? Had the prophet met his final death for simply trying to spread his religious message?

A cool breeze suddenly blew by, clearing away some of the smoke and heat, and Deanna closed her eyes and smiled faintly. Somehow she doubted this was the last they would see of the Prophet of Chaos. She heard Quinn call her name, and she turned to make her way to him and the others.

...............


Deanna did not like crowds, rather she wasn't a fan of people in general, yet she found herself surrounded by hundreds of confused souls wandering about as clueless as they could be. She found Quinn's hand and gripped it tightly, feeling a panic attack about to set in at such close proximity to people. Her mate leaned down and whispered softly in her ear, "Breathe, De.''

So she did just that, and as she fought to slow down her heart rate, she noticed that Victor and Wish were no longer in sight. Where had they gone? Perhaps Alerion himself wanted to speak to Victor. In any case, she couldn't be concerned with their whereabouts. People young and old were shoving past her, and it was all Deanna could do not to bash their heads in, or some other violent act.

Just then a rather short olive skinned man with a shock of black hair and dressed in the most outlandish outfit of many colors approached them wearing a bright smile.

"Greetings to you! I am Felix, King Alerion's Chamberlain." Felix had the longest lashes she had ever seen on a man, and by the tone of his sing song voice, Deanna guessed he batted for the same team. Her opinion was confirmed when Felix turned to glance at Quinn, his hungry gaze travelling from head to toe, and perhaps lingering on a few critical areas.

"Well...helloooooo to you! Aren't you a big fellow?" Felix eyed Quinn with the appreciation Deanna showed a rare steak, much to her amusement and Quinn's questionable stare. She felt rather sorry for her mate for have the misfortune of being the object of Felix's lust, but smiled away all the same.

Felix tutted and waved an immaculately manicured hand. "Oh I am so sorry! How silly of me! You two must be tired and in need of refreshments and rest." He leered appreciatively at Quinn. "Perhaps a bath? The sun can be so cruel, you know! So dreadful, so dreadful." Felix reached out and patted Quinn on his arm, cooing sympathetically. "And you, you poor thing, I bet those muscles of yours are just aching and in need of a nice hot tub." He fluttered his lashes at Quinn before turning to Deanna, arching a thin eyebrow. "And you, missy, your hair looks like a rat's nest. Not attractive at all."

Deanna resisted the urge to break Felix's perfect little nose and instead snorted. "That's great. A bath sounds perfect, but um...sorry to break it to you, Felix my man, but he belongs to me." Deanna grinned at the little prancing fairy man.

Felix glared at Deanna and muttered what she believed to be 'beast' at her before leading them to the bathing chambers. There were several small dimly lit rooms that housed large smooth stoned baths, steam rising deliciously from them. Felix led them to one that was devoid of others, his previously bright smile now sour at the realization that Quinn wasn't going to make him his bitch. Deanna snickered until Felix turned on her and with a wicked gleam in his eye, clapped his hands.

A scantily clad young woman, her goodies visible through the diaphanous clothing she wore appeared out of nowhere with a warm smile upon her lovely heart shaped face. Felix cooed once more, his attention purely for Quinn. "This is Lani. She will take care of all your needs, sad to say." He sighed dramatically before glaring at Deanna. "Savage." With that, the Chamberlain flounced off leaving Deanna and Quinn with the lovely Lani.

The young woman smiled to both of them, but it was clear her focus was on Quinn, who stood there with that idiotic cocky grin on his face. "Anything you could possibly need for your bath surrounds the tub in marble trays. There are towels nearby as well. If you'll just leave your, uh...clothes for me, I'll make sure both of you have something more suitable to wear." Lani's voice was as lovely as she. Deanna assured her they would be fine and waved her off until...

"I am also at your service if you would like me to bathe you." Deanna was in the process of removing her shirt before turning to glare at Lani, and then at Quinn who rocked back and forth on his heels and chuckled, knowing Deanna's reaction to such a generous offer.

Surprisingly, the shifter didn't outright attack her. Instead, Deanna smiled her sugary smile and very politely asked Lani the Bath Harlot, "That's very kind of you, dear, but tell me...how would you plan on bathing my mate without any hands?"

Quinn burst out laughing and shook his head as he moved toward the bath's edge, while the poor bathing girl simply looked at her perfectly tiny hands in confusion, then back at Deanna.

Deanna stared at her long and hard, until the young woman's eyes widened as she finally caught the shifter's meaning. "Oh! Well then. Um, I'll just leave you two..." She spared a glance at Quinn and nodded. "Good luck." Before departing hastily. Deanna turned to face Quinn, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Keep it up, big guy, and I'll call Felix back."

Deanna rolled her eyes as she tore off her worn and salt crusted garments and flung them aside before descending the steps into the bath and letting out a sigh of pure bliss. Quinn followed suit and together they sat on the smooth ledge, allowing the heat of the water to soak into their weary bones. Deanna closed her eyes and hoped that Victor and Wish had fared as well as they were.

She turned her head and through half closed eyes, she saw the expression on Quinn's face, the knowing glint in his eyes.

Deanna smiled widely and suddenly, she didn't give a damn about Victor or Wish.

Aurora had made her guests as comfortable as possible, but her temple was no substitute for the homes and families they lost. No, the Mother Goddess thought as she watched her children feign contentment. Their lives would never be the same again.

She had sent her two fierce beauties out to scout the lands. One was sent north to the Grand City, the other to the south where Khory would have arrived in Heruin, perhaps close to Tempesteruo's temple.

The first had returned, exhausted and thirsty. Aurora greeted her winged scout with soft words and offerings of water and food. She allowed the bird to rest and refresh before questioning him. The falcon perched atop a branch of her sacred Oak altar and began his chirping, hopping from one foot to the next.

Aurora listened patiently and carefully as the bird explained his findings, some of his news good, and some...terrible.

"The waters have receded some. Excellent. It shouldn't be long before my children can leave the temple." And go where? What did they have left for them to return to?

Aurora shook off that thought and focused on the rest of her small falcon's news.

The Mother Goddess was careful not to reveal her indignation, keeping her composure, but her emerald eyes flashed with unbridled fury. Even her trusted companion twittered nervously until he felt Aurora's slim golden fingers stroke his head into silence.

"And you say he is gone? His dragons turned against him?" The bird chirped and weaved his body back and forth in confirmation, his deadly beak opening once more in chatter.

"Those poor lost foolish souls." Aurora sighed heavily, her heart going out to those who were blinded by this false prophet's promises. "Elysia will see to their spirits in the afterlife, I am sure."

At the mention of her sister's name, the falcon once more chittered excitedly, blinking his large black eyes.

Aurora raised an elegant brow. "She was one of the four? Heading to Alerion's palace?" The Mother smiled then as she praised her winged beauty for his bravery. "It would seem she holds my sister's favor after all, the little foul mouthed unbeliever that she is." She felt somewhat sorry for her companions as well, especially the mage. Aurora was keenly aware of the therianthrope's temper, and could only imagine her wrath against those she felt wronged her.

The Goddess chuckled some, knowing how stubborn her daughter was, and took great pity for the one she chose as her life mate. "Indeed, my love. He had incredible spirit and strength. He has to in order to deal with her on a daily basis, no?" Aurora grinned at her own humor.

The Mother turned and clapped her hands, requesting silence as she spoke to her refugee children. "Listen to me, all of you." She need not speak loudly, for the Mother's voice commanded the attention of all. "I know you are all restless, and I cannot blame you for that, but I have good news! Soon the waters will return to the sea where they belong, and the lands will be habitable once again!" Cheers went up throughout the temple, and Aurora reached out to embrace her children to share in their joy.

No sooner had she spoken than the second falcon returned from her long destination. The bird was heartier than her mate (as most females are), and did not require sustenance as the smaller male did before recounting her tales of her Mother's Champion Khory.

Aurora felt silvery tears slide down her cheeks as her winged beauty spoke of Khory's trial with the quake that nearly consumed her. Nearly. She smiled as a grateful mother would, thankful for her daughter's survival.

"There is more to my daughter, my Champion, that meets the eye. She does not realize her worth, but she will. Khory burns with inner fire, and it is that fire that will keep her alive." Aurora's chin lifted, a fierce surge of pride filling her.

She was pleased to hear that Khory was nearing Tempesturo's temple, when the next bit of news from her falcon chilled her.

"All dead? All of them?" The Mother's eyes widened with horror, knowing that her daughter was heading into a perilous situation, if she wasn't there already.

"This is my brother's doing? She is in grave danger! I will not compromise her safety!"

Aurora spun on her bare heel and retreated without another word to her inner sanctuary. There she knelt and focused on a calm mind. She would need calm and clarity if she hoped to reach Khory.

"Daughter. You are not safe. The death that surrounds you is by Tempesteruo's hand, or at the very least, those who serve him. To continue onward is to ensure your own death. I will not risk your life. Be wary, child. Be on guard. Return to my temple, or if you can, secure a vessel. Find a way to the Grand City, to Alerion's palace."

Aurora's eyes opened. She prayed her message reached Khory in time. The Mother had one more message to deliver, that to her sister Elysia. The Winter Goddess must be made aware of those who cater to chaos in Tempesteruo's name.

She reached out with her mind once more and focused. Elysia.

“Hey, Khor. What's up?”

“Fuck off.”

“Seriously? I'm hurt! Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

The burnt and shuffling woman who answered by the name of Khory looked at the figure who was walking by her side. He was tall, gangly, and dressed like an idiot. At least, that's what she thought. The wizard to whom that face belonged swore that the hat and the billowy coat made him look all “hero-like and stuff”. Khory never had bought into that. The fact that Vic did what he did, despite what he looked like and how often he failed, made him a hero in her estimation. At least, of a sort. He tried to do good, kept the world in balance. The world as he saw it. He'd even go out of his way to save a damsel in distress. More often than not he seemed to make everything worse, especially for himself. Khory had gotten used to that, even grown to like it, when they had traveled together. That time, however, was long ago and far away. Much like she wished she was right now.

“You aren't Vic, so piss off.”

The doppleganger grinned at her, that familiar shit-eating grin. He mock sobered.

“And if I wasn't the real Vic and I'm not actually here, then why are you still talking to me?” It made sense, but Khory was in no mood to explain herself really, and went for the short answer.

“Because I am hallucinating and talking to you keeps me moving.”

It was true. She'd fallen into a rut. She hadn't slept the last two days, just continued walking, all through the days and nights, pushing herself to finish the task she had been set. Once she'd agreed to do the Goddess' work she was bound until death. She had seriously considered that this might actually come to that, and the longer she walked interminably into the desert the more sure of it she became. She was too exhausted now to grieve or rail against the injustice. She simply accepted it. This mission would be her last, but she'd damned well finish it before Death came for her.

To that end, being forced to keep up her end of a conversation made her concentrate on moving. The sun and the unending sand had a tendency to lull her, hypnotize her, and she would find herself just standing, staring at her feet, or face down in the sand, not remembering how she'd gotten there. Part of her knew that lack of sleep was responsible for some of it, but mostly it was the sun. She wasn't dehydrated, thanks to the enchanted skin, but the heat, the miserable heat, had leeched everything else away from her. It beat down until it felt like it was cooking her brain. It got harder and harder to think, harder to keep moving. Sometimes she forgot why she was walking and to where. Now she had sunk straight into madness, and was hallucinating the last sane person she remembered. If Vic found out he possessed the title “sane” in her head he would laugh his wizardly pants off. The thought made her smile.

“So,” said the specter of Vic Sage. “Now what? Should I sing a tune or something? Maybe we could get an acapella thing going! I heard this one about a girl named Black-Eyed Susie...”

Khory snorted a laugh. She'd heard the song too, and it was much more suited to baud houses and war trenches than it was to her high-minded adventure. She thought it was terribly funny that her subconscious would pull up that song. Though, now that she thought about it, he probably would have really gotten a kick out of that song if he'd known about it. It was right up his alley.

“No singing please. I remember your voice quite well, and all I can say is it's a good thing there are no crows out here.” The false Vic looked at her in mocking outrage.

“My good Lady! Never have I been so insulted! I am the KING among crows!” He looked at her with his eyebrows waggling. “And don't you forget it!”

That did it. Khory let out a peal of laughter, head thrown back to the sky. When she finished she turned to Vic to tell him off again, but he wasn't there. She looked around her, and he wasn't anywhere. She sighed, sobering. Of course he'd been a hallucination. She knew that already, didn't she? Yes, but still. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until just then. It was so good to hear him there that she'd gotten sucked in. She believed, for one second, that it was really him. And the rug got sucked out from under her again.

Khory had been fighting the madness all day. People from her past kept coming out of the heat. Some to make her laugh, some to scream at her, some to simply stare at her in silent judgment. She tried to ignore them, but every so often one would catch her, just for a second, and she wanted to believe they were real. Then they would disappear, like some punishment sent to torture her.

As if the sun wasn't enough.

***

She'd been plodding along for ages. She couldn't remember now how many days it had been. She'd lost track, and really it didn't matter. It couldn't really matter, because until she reached her destination she had no other goal but to keep moving. She took a step, and another step, one right after the other, all the time staring at her feet. It took her a moment to realize when the sand changed.

She was looking down, but the sound of her step had changed. She stopped. She stared at her feet for a few minutes, desperately whipping her brain into motion. Something had changed. It was important. What was it? After a few minutes her eyes made sense of what they saw. There was stone beneath her feet. Not natural stone, but stone roughly carved and unfinished. Slowly Khory raised her head, taking in details as they came within view. By the time her eyes reached the top the rush of relief had overwhelmed her and she dropped to the ground, scraping burnt knees on the rough stone.

“Thank the Gods. I've found it.”

Hours, days, and weeks of the worst traveling she'd ever done, and here she was, on her knees before Tempesturos Temple. But something was wrong. She'd heard of the temple of the Summer King. His chaotic nature allowed heavy mists to shroud a Temple that was built in a land of harsh sun and very little water. But no mist was there to be found. At least none that she could see. At this point, were it not for the blood of her knees testifying to the existence of stone beneath her she might have been convinced this was just another mirage, dismissing it entirely. Even so, noticing how off the Temple was made her less than sure she was where she thought she was.

She was uncertain. More than uncertain, in fact. She had no idea what she was looking at, or indeed how to proceed. If she was truly at the door of the God of Summer should she just knock? What if she wasn't there at all? What if this was the last hallucination of all, the one that came right before death from sun exposure? She was too exhausted, and not thinking clearly. Her mind had started to spin, throwing out question after question until it was just noise. The pain of it brought tears to her eyes, and then, as if in answer to her pain, the Goddess called out to her.

"Daughter. You are not safe. The death that surrounds you is by Tempesteruo's hand, or at the very least, those who serve him. To continue onward is to ensure your own death. I will not risk your life. Be wary, child. Be on guard. Return to my temple, or if you can, secure a vessel. Find a way to the Grand City, to Alerion's palace."

But it was too late. She had already arrived, and could no longer turn back on her path. The warrior woman slumped, exhausted, her hands flat against the ground and her head hanging. Go home. Aurora wanted her to go home. Now? After everything? Now Khory wept truly, feeling every burn, every sore, every year of her life and every step of this long journey. Each one of them was like a stone upon her back. But the Goddess wanted her back, needed her to go to the Kings City. What could she do but obey.

Slowly, with a groan of pain, she regained her feet. She stood there swaying for a moment, then took a step. She turned her back on the Temple of Summer and began yet another journey, shorter this time, that would take her to the Southern Sea.

Solitude and silence are almost always difficult to find when you are the Deity of a realm. Typically, there's always someone praying to you or seeking guidance within your temple. Elysia did not mind that this was her existence, to watch over others and the lands of Aleris, to help maintain balance. But when this balance of the world is shaken by a great number of countless deaths, the Goddess of Winter found herself quietly retreating back into a room in her temple where she could be alone.

Ever since the storms had hit, she felt a number of people dying from the ferocity of the rain, wind and lightning. Then when the tidal waves came, her spirit seemed to be overwhelmed with the deaths of thousands from around Elved and Eiler namely. So many dying thoughts of others rushed into her mind and though she was stricken with compassion for all of them, it nearly made tears want to trail from the corners of her obsidian colored eyes.

Throughout all of this, Elysia tried to keep a cool composure, though it was evident she was not pleased with the idea of so much death happening at once. Even after the madness of the storms and tidal waves had happened, several more deaths occurred due to dragons. She felt those poor souls being burnt and ripped apart, about twenty or so, and shook her head knowing their deaths need not have happened, that it was all because of an act of betrayal.

At long last however, she had heard word that people were being rescued and led to safer grounds, such as Alerion's castle and Layla Victoire's mansion. This soothed her troubled soul a little bit, for once the Alerians would be taken to comfortable places, away from rooftops and high hills, sickness and death would slow down significantly. She still had hope for Aleris and everyone within it.

It was a few days, almost a week later, that she heard her sister Aurora's voice echoing in her mind and calling out to her. In return, Elysia reached out to the Goddess of Spring. Being as how the Temple of Spring was on an island on the outskirts of Eiler, Elysia had wondered how the earthen structure had fared against the elements. It was this she was most interested in and hoped to hear some good news from Aurora.

Aurora. How are-

Her concentration was shortly broken by a loud and urgent knocking at her door, one that was persistent. She had left her temple priests and priestesses in charge of any refugees that had come seeking haven within her temple. They were happy to oblige the goddess and let her be in her solitude, but now that the knocking had come, she knew something else had gone terribly wrong.

"Elysia... the lake... it is no longer frozen!" came the breathless voice from behind the door.

Dravvin and Rahne had been sent there to keep it from cracking open, but it seemed the effort came too late.

Her mind was shut off to Aurora suddenly and Elysia went to the door, opening it quickly and then dismissing the messenger that had delivered the bitter news. At once, she left the Temple of Winter and headed towards Eternal Lake, making her journey as quick it could be. She arrived perhaps a half hour later and spotted Rahne and Dravvin near the edge of it. At this point, she also saw a herd of deer that were grazing nearby get attacked. Long, thick claws snaked up from below the lake and grabbed a deer pulling it beneath the depths of the water. The lake was then quiet and still, but this did not stop the rest of the herd of deer from leaping away in fear.

"Get away from the lake!" Elysia shouted, her voice reaching Rahne and Dravvin.

She was horror-struck to find the waters stirring again as if the beasts lurking beneath the waters had heard her voice. Just then, water exploded upwards around them in large waves as if a bomb had exploded underwater. From the lake came two monstrous creatures that bellowed in unison as they stepped forth from the waters, a sound which seemed to shake the land and mountains around them. Both were as murky and black as the deep watery hell that had once been their prison, eyeless beasts with cavernous mouths that contained jagged rows of sharpened teeth. Foul creatures that nightmares were made of, they spewed forth black ash as they roared their fury.

The first creature, a behemoth with six legs was the first to take to land. It swung its mighty tail where inches long spikes protruded along its spine, wicked clawed feet dug deep grooves into the earth as it stomped forth to examine its new surroundings. The second soon followed its brother and shook the remaining droplets of water from the leathery wings that stretched forth from its back. Its massive wingspan was spread in such a manner that it blocked out the sun's rays. This beast was sleeker, more serpentine in form. Both were monumental in size, at least three times the size of an adult dragon, easily able to conquer the smaller mountains in Aleris.

All at once, the winged beast took to the sky and the land giant made way in the direction towards Chaliceton, totally ignoring Elysia, Dravvin and Rahne who stood by the lake. Then, magic quite anything like Dravvin might have seen before, was unleashed into the sky. Large shards of ice were conjured from Elysia's hands and shot into the air, aimed at the flying horror. This hit the end of the beast's tail and for a moment the weight of the ice freezing the tail weighed the creature, like an anchor, back to the ground. Because the thing was so evasive however, Elysia had not captured it like she wanted to. Instead, the flyer thumped the ice off of its tail, another miniature quake rippling through the ground in response.

These beasts were able to cover a lot of ground, considering their stride and wingspan. So while one went to Eiler by flight, the other made way to Chaliceton. Many years ago, these beasts were sealed away by the four of gods of Aleris, but now there were only three that were actually reliable, herself, Aurora and Galenous. She did not know if the three of them without Tempesturo could capture the shadow beasts once more. They were the Val'nothe, the immoral leviathans that resided in the abyss of obscurity, most vile destroyers of mankind and of gods. Impervious to destruction due to immediate regeneration of their forms, they were instead condemned into their watery entombment, sealed away for what should have been eternity.

Elysia's mind flickered to Aurora and Galenous, her words brief and urgent, Help. Val'nothe.

It was then that she remembered in her panic that Dravvin and Rahne were still there, probably stunned or fearful of the god-like monsters that had emerged. She moved to Dravvin and Rahne, her footsteps quick.

"You must leave here immediately," Elysia said, not bothering to explain much about the beasts that were about to tear apart Aleris. "They will return to my temple and destroy it. Please, Dravvin and Rahne, guide those there to safety. Underground is best. There is a system of caves not far from my temple at the base of the mountains." Elysia paused and pointed to the mountains that shielded one side of her temple. "I must go to Chaliceton."

And just like that, the Goddess of Winter was gone again, hell-bent on stopping the roaming terrors that were now set to destroy the Alerian continents, one by one, until there was nothing left.