The Rebirth, Destiny can bite me!

[Lighteria]

It is sad Krystianna.
Sad that you would allow yourself to be so easily defined by one moment of your life.
Whoever you are, you'd better know a good cleric. Cause I ain't healing you after the beating you're about to get.
Poor little Krystianna. Taken at the innocent age of ten. An atheist cleric kidnapped by thieves. Woe is her.
May I have everyone's attention? Will the owner of the 'Krystianna's beating' please come to the service desk? You are late for your appointment.
Your family is dead. Your life was uprooted. And your mind is still focused on it even now. You can barely close your eyes without their faces popping up.
I swear if you don't clam it...
Don't be so damned weak Krystianna.
How dare you-!
Let it go. You've fallen too far. Your hands are stained red and you're still endlessly bitter at the thieves that wronged you.
I have every damn right to be bitter! What they did to me...
Means NOTHING. They are nothing more than weak humans driven by mindless greed. They are not worth your grief.
Not worth-?! My family is worth the grief!!
And as long as you are tied to this, you will never move forward.
Shut... UP!! I handle this with more grace than most people would! People have ended their own lives for far less!
You acted better, but it amounts to nothing. I guarantee you will die in this cell if you do not move on.
...I'm... dead... no matter what... you IDIOT. I crossed dimensions with no way back, held powerless by demons that were toying with me when I was at full strength. Coming to terms with my lousy past won't do a damn thing for me.
I am stating a fact. If you don't, you will die. Period. You may abandon all hope right now if you like, but there is a chance.
...Who... ARE YOU!?!
...I'm You.
... ...W... Wha-? I don't... I'm not crazy!
You're taking your mind where it needs to be right now. You know this wisdom inside you is true. You just refuse to accept it. You refuse because you're just a mortal.
...Wait, what do I mean "where I need to be?"
*crack*
Very well. You may be able to handle reality again.
Oh-... Gods... I remember where I was.
*Crack!*
D-damn it!! Damn you demons!! DAMN YOU!!

*CRACK*

"AAAAGGHH!!!" Krystianna's screams echo throughout the stone chamber and down the corridors of the dungeon, bloodcurdling and thick with pain. Slowly, the scream comes to an abrupt end, her voice cracking and her head dropping, hanging limply. The chains clasped on her wrists rattle as she falls forward keeping her from collapsing completely to the ground, her bare knees scraping the rough floor as her body weight shifts. Looming behind her is the demon Armaeis, a twisted snarl on his face and a bloodied whip extending from the very palm of his hand. He growls deep in his throat, not fully satisfied with the pain he's inflicted. Despite that, he stops after the scream, knowing death is forbidden in this instance. The discipline is short lived though; in a furious movement, he grips the cleric's hair and snaps the chains, his arm shoving her face down into the cold floor. The girl has only the strength for a painful grunt, blood now dripping down her forehead as well as her mouth.

"I'll have your tongue ripped out if you speak like that again to me." Armaeis hisses into the cleric's ear, the grip on her hair tightening painfully.

I don't.. even remember what I said at this point.

The demon leans his head in towards her face for a moment, a single eye brow lifting, awaiting at least eye contact for an answer. The cleric's eyes slowly rise sideways with her head, the girl straining and groaning for the strength to even turn her gaze. It takes a moment before the soft, green eyes of the girl meet the demon's blood red pupils. Without the strength to retort, the girl simply stares at his face, a small stream of blood seeping down her forehead and down the side of her nose. Watching the gaze, the demon can't help but have a grin form on his face.

"Humans are so fragile." He remarks, letting her hair go to let her collapse fully onto the floor. The demon rises slowly to his feet, chuckling lightly. "If only all the human women I met could take that kind of beating... I might not have needed so many." Again, he laughs, a smug expression forming on his face. Krystianna groans painfully, her body teetering over so she can lie on her side. "I remember that one girl... accidentally choked her with the whip... Ah, that was one of the best..." He grins darkly and turns back to the cleric, noting the weak look of disgust on her face. His grin widens, purposefully looking her over to further frustrate her.

"I'll give you this, cleric. You look great in a slave outfit." Krystianna's gaze harshens again, the outfit being nothing more than a linen tunic and clearly meant to degrade. Her mouth opens for a sharp retort, but her vision reddens suddenly and blood pours down her tongue. She gags and her head drops again, spitting and coughing until a sticky puddle of blood forms under her cheek.

Armaeis grins again, the cleric's harsh but futile reactions are quite the pathetic sight in his eyes. This one is especially caustic given her situation and looks... being able to push her buttons so easily is icing on the cake. The poor girl had so much dignity before she was stripped and beaten, it's clear to the demon that she still clings harshly to that, putting pride in both her spirit and her body. It would be so easy to strip her of every last bit of both... But Ahretahs was very clear. This one is to remain alive and chaste. There is magic to be cast and a pure, holy catalyst is almost too perfect for what he has in store. ...Still. The girl struggles to even lift her hand from the floor at this point. Wounded... helpless... Armaeis starts to salivate as he dwells on it. As his eyes trace towards the whip marks down her back, there's a sudden twitch in his body. Letting restraint go for the moment, he lightly pounces, straddling the girl and leaning his face in towards hers, grinning darkly.

"Such a pathetic sight..." He cackles, his hand reaching down to pin the hand she tried in vain to move again. The display of power is purely masculine posturing though, simply one being proving they can do anything they want. The situation looks to turn grim before Krystianna's eyes lift, her head slowly turning towards the demon's face. Their eyes lock. The demon's eyes squint lightly, the cat-like pupils almost blinking by themselves as he stares. Krystianna, through a hazed vision, stares back with a weak, stern look. It's hard to tell if she's mentally threatening him, or simply proving she's still alive. Whichever the case, the demon finds himself staring into her deep, green eyes for a full minute, still straddling her torso. His hand-whip anxiously twitches back and forth at his side. something truly starting to disturb him.

Suddenly his chest expands and the demon growls angrily, realizing he's let this gaze contest completely sap his cravings. Armaeis HATES it when the mood is killed. Frustrated, his whips his hand past her face, the whip cracking over her cheek. Her voice barely manages the strength for a wince as the demon stands back up, straightening out his long back and turning back towards the door.

"You'd better hope you die before I get a hold of you." He growls, gripping the iron handle of the door and opening it wide. Torchlight from the hallway rushes into the room, the cleric's eye lightly squinting from the sudden change. Her gaze traces to the doorway where Armaeis says something to the rock golem guarding the door. It's only a moment later before the demon pulls the door tightly shut and a latching noise is heard.

And again, Krystianna is left alone.


...All.. I see is red...
Her chest sinks lightly, her body falling over on itself until she's sprawled out on the floor on her back. She swallows harshly, tasting nothing but blood on her tongue as she struggles to take a full breath. In her throat, a harsh groan escapes her mouth, her hand slowly rising from the floor. Her left eye snaps shut suddenly, a trickle of blood hitting the top of her eyelid. She breathes deeply, her hand slowly rising above her chest and reaching upward. Her vision narrows lightly, the puddle of blood on the floor beginning to stain her pink hair a deep red. Her teeth grit in frustration as her hand reaches the highest point it can go, fingers reaching towards the ceiling... though not to reach out for something, instead reaching out to strangle something. Her fist tightens and shakes as a tear drop falls down her cheek.

"D-damn... you...." Her voice staggers out, hand swaying weakly. With that said, her chest droops, she exhales and lets her hand collapse to her torso, hand resting over the linen over her stomach. Unsure if the pain of her bare back is worse than the pain in her head, she shuts her eyes, trying to force herself back away from the situation.



"You know, that wasn't the first time I was whipped on my bare back." Krystianna suddenly finds herself saying matter-of-factly. She looks over a small group of men and women, all of them looking on with fascination.

"It wasn't?" An inquisitive young man asks from the front row of the clumsily organized group. Krystianna laughs lightly and shakes her head, a smile on her face but a pain in her eyes.

"No, it wasn't." She replies, almost musing. "The thieves I was forced to travel with whipped me a few times... I didn't learn to keep my mouth shut. Still haven't." She smiles and the group laughs lightly. "It was back when I was first enslaved... I bit, scratched and clawed at anyone who came near." She growls lightly, and swipes like a kitten in front of her, sensing the group getting somber. They laugh lightly at the gesture and keep listening. "The bandit leader would get his whip out a few times when I bit his hand. Really, the demon may have done quite the job, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle at that point." She shrugs lightly, the crowd obviously starting to sadden despite her demeanor. "Guys, it's not a big deal. Pain passes, you heal, the only lasting effects it has is usually guilt." A few faces lighten. "I wonder how some people sleep at night, honestly. I'd hate to have real thought-out cruelty on MY conscience." A few nods, one particularly thoughtful look. "Regardless... where was I?"

"The demon just left..." The same young man chimes out.

"That's right." Krystianna nods, a smile spreading past her face. "That was a very important time."

"Why was it?" A girl speaks this time, nearly raising her hand. The pink-haired cleric smiles and leans in lightly towards the crowd like she's telling a secret.

"Because. That was the beginning of the end."

[Lighteria]

"I don't understand Headmistress..." A young male cleric with blue hair says as he clutches his focusing staff nervously, his white robes billowing in a cold wind gusting through the cold, dead town. "Neither we, nor the rangers have found a single soul in this village... B-Blood is everywhere but not a body in sight..." The boy hiccups, clearly losing his ability to speak under the circumstances.

"Neirsburg..." The headmaster says softly, her arms crossed over her chest, looking down the long dirt road through the center of the town. She runs her fingers through her long, flowing white hair for a moment, letting the strands come to rest on her shoulder, covered by a fancifully adorned robe. Her hand lifts into the wind as though reaching out for something. "...What is this lingering aura of darkness I sense...?" Her hand lowers and she brushes the tip of her staff along the bloody dirt where she'd been standing. "Could that cleric's voice I heard in my meditation have truely been real? I sensed no link with divinity within her... Perhaps it was a demon attempting to lure me into the loop trap I sensed..."

"That is why you waited a day, Headmistress?" The young cleric asks. The headmaster nods her head slowly.

"We are practitioners of white magic, Ciel. Demons both fear and despise us." She shakes her head softly, frowning at the blood-caked dirt beneath her feet. "This would not be the first time I was lured into traps..."

"But I don't understand..." The young one says again, shaking his head with worry. "How could they be here in Outer Rim?"


The headmistress frowns, her grip tightening on her staff. She wishes she has a reassuring answer for the young cleric but the fact remains that she's painfully ignorant of what transpired in this town. The only clues left in the town are lingering auras of dark and the corpses of imps. While the presense of imps is unsettling, it's certainly not a full explination. Demons are certainly not unheard of in Outer Rim, despite what Ciel would wish for. Minor demons pop up all over Avalon, usually to cause mischeif or attack random travelers. However... an attack of this magnitude is certainly a first. Imps lack the power and intellegence to coordinate such an attack... and stronger demons crossing into this world are unheard of. Perhaps with the aid of either powerful magic or assistance from disturbed cultists... it's possible, and something as organized as the systematic and veiled eradication of an entire village is... unsettling to say the least. This attack could set a horrible precedent... Tharkas Kingdom would need to be informed...

"...Perhaps I am reading too far into this." The headmistress suddenly says, walking towards the Mayor's house. "Were demons beginning to develop methods of re-entry into our realm I would most certainly have felt the stirrings in my meditations... Ley lines would be disrupted, the arch mages would begin scrying..." She gently pushes open the door, noting the lack of a knob and the countless scratches and breaks in the wood. "No Ciel, while demonic influence may be the only explination for the town, I am certain that this is an isolated incident." Confident in her asessment, the woman walks towards the mayor's office, picking up the town ledger.

"I am... so relieved to hear that Headmistress!" Ciel stammers out, smiling and loosening his grip on his staff.

"Mm. yes but..." She replies, thumbing lightly through the entries. "This can't go ignored. Whatever rift they came from must be sealed immediately. ...I'd prefer we not be forced to involve the mages of Avalon, they have enough to do lately." She squints down at the book, noting the bloodstains on the final pages. "...But if we do indeed have a rift open..." She traces her finger along the page of the book, noting the smear of human fingerprints in the blood. "We may have no other choice. Even if we're only dealing with a small rift it can't be left alone." With a single movement, she places the book back on the bed's side table and turns towards the young cleric. "Ciel, go back to the tower and inform them of the situation. We will need a few clerics to monitor the town and surrounding areas while word is sent Cethindol Tower. Tell them it's of great import that a mage is sent to seal the rift as soon as possible." She glances towards the window, mist and dew still clinging to the panes from the unnatural fog. "I will stay and find the rift."

"At one Headmistress!" Ciel nods, bowing deeply and rushing from the house, his staff accidentally knocking on the side of the door as he leaves. The woman half smiles as he leaves, the boy is so wide-eyed and kind... almost a perfect protégé. He would have to have to have a commendation or something later on, but for now his message is the most important task. This has to be done quickly before the demons come back after all... and if they have an encounter while they're closing the rift...

"...No matter. They'll feel God's Wrath if they cross over." Her hand lightly glowing, the headmistress grips her ankh tightly, holding on to it for strength. Her minor theatrics pass quickly though as she heads towards the basement. The last journal entry made note of the basement and it could have a vital clue about the demons... Perhaps either a reason they attacked, or at least a clue to the nature of their powers. After all, if they managed to procure powers that block divine magic... things could be complicated to say the least...



In the meantime, broken and bleeding in the cell, Krystianna begins to refocus her eyes to the stone ceiling. As her eyes trace towards the chains and pulleys, focused with a horrified fascination, her mind begins to regain a semblance of conscious thought.

...What the hell... I can't... even dream straight...
These aren't dreams. They're prophetic visions.
...I can't know that for sure.
They are. You must stop doubting yourself.
Gods... DAMN it... stop arguing with me... me.
The gods will not stop you.
I'm not insane. ...Stop TALKING!!
You will close in on the threshold of death soon. You're running out of time.
This is... too much. I can't face... I can't face my past... Not like this.
You can't do this unwillingly. ...But if you do not, then die where you lay.
Please... no... H...help me...!
No one will help you. There will be no intervention, divine or mortal. You are alone. And will die here alone.

With a deep exhale, Krystianna's eyes slowly close, tears falling from her cheeks and mixing with the blood on the floor beneath her head. Her chest heaves lightly in an attempt to fully cry but the attempt dies in her throat, only managing a cough, unsettling the dried blood caking in her mouth. She chokes back a wave of disgust from the feeling in her mouth and shuts her eyes tighter, trying to tear herself away again. With pain coursing through her head, her body shudders, lacking the energy for the emotional shakes, and falls limp again. With the collapse, her eyes open halfway, staring beyond the stone walls into nothing... but seeing too much still.

"That's right..." Krystianna says softly to herself, standing up slowly from the floor. "I refuse to accept the help of the gods. The only person I can count on for help is me." Her fist tightens, her head turning towards the dinner table where her family sits, laughing gently at nothing. She swallows, walking along the old wood floor, passing behind a younger version of herself towards the side of the table closest to the fireplace. On a metal platform halfway from the floor and the top of the fireplace, boils a delicious-smelling stew, Krystianna's father bending down to stir it lightly.

"...Looks good to me folks. Let's dig in!" He says with a smile, gripping the handle of the pot and setting it on table. As the family leans in towards the center of the table, the dinner is halted by the wail of the town bell. Child Krystianna turns towards the window with a gasp, staring outside in confusion and fear. As she does, older Krystianna walks slowly towards her father, time coming to a halt. She traces her hand along her father's shoulder, looking into his still face.

"Look at you..." She muses, watching his face. "My gods dad, did you even think twice about it?" As she talks, she sighs deeply, staring into his eyes. Her father's face dropped the pleasant dinner-face it had just a moment before, now replaced by a furrowed brow and a deep, immovable look of heroism. "...The call goes out. You're on the move!" She says practically at his face. "You should have seen the look in Terin's eyes when you grabbed that sword. It was pure hero worship!" She sighs, looking towards her brother. As she falls silent, the world begins to move again, her father dropping the soup ladle into the pot and rushing to the closet to grab his blade.

"Stay here kids. We'll be back." Her father says quickly, snapping a metal chest piece over his house shirt and clasping his war belt over his old leather one. With the sword sheathed on his back, he turns to Krystianna's mother, looking to her expectantly. As their eyes meet, time grinds to a halt again, the younger of the clerics walking back towards her father.

"You were brave, noble, and a good father..." She whispers, staring at his eyes. "...But ye gods... what a hero complex." She half laughs to herself, shaking her head. "I guess it was inevitable. You fight enough battles to kill twenty similar men and walk out unscathed because of mom... Of course you assume you're invincible." She turns from him, walking over to her younger self, kneeling down and watching her. "I could feel it. There was a deep, impending sense of dread throughout this day. I felt it. Mother felt it. Anyone could feel it. Fate was moving and the smart families were prepping to run." She stands up slowly, staring back at her father from the child's perspective. "We should have run too. But you fought. You barely gave me a second glance before you rushed to your death..." She glares darkly, standing and walking towards her father again. Though the world is frozen, her father suddenly mobilizes again, his head turning towards her with a serious expression.

"I could not abandon the village. They counted on me to protect them." He says sternly, hands balled into fists like any warrior that's defending himself.

"I counted on you to be my father as well." Krystianna retorts bluntly, crossing her arms. "You may have been brave and noble... but you lacked perspective. And it got you killed."

"I lived a full and noble life." He says suddenly, chest expanding lightly. "I lived my life protecting those I love. I have no regrets."

"I know." She says softly, her shoulders drooping. "I don't blame you father. I still love you, even after all this time." Her father's gaze softens as he watches his daughter sigh deeply. "But I have to see you fully now. You weren't a mythical figure fighting the tides of fate... an image I comforted myself with when I was hauled around in a cage." She stares deep into her father's eyes, watching his soul falter before her. "You were very much... human. You allowed yourself to be defined by heroism, and thus fell into mortality... Fated to become a story for children as most men would content themselves with."

"I would never turn my back on them..."

"...And that is why I'm through with you father." She says quietly. "If I keep looking up to a mortal man blinded by heroics, I'll never move on." With those words, she turns away from him. Her father slowly reverts back into place and time rushes forward again. Her father clasps his armor down for the last time and rushes out the door to meet destiny, followed by her mother soon after.

"Run away to meet fate little mortals..." She remarks, heading up the stairs into what seems to be a void.

"As far as I'm concerned, destiny can bite me."


There are larger things out there... Hero stories are nothing more than that. Stories.

Farewell father. I hope your spirit rests where all heroes do. I for one, will never follow.


As she walks towards the void, the world becomes dark once again. Her mind drifts slowly again, visions drifting into formless colors and thoughts before her senses refocus on a single sound: a soft, constant thumping. As she focuses her body chills and trembles, her heartbeat rousing her again from her mind, a cold rush of life pulsing through every muscle in her body. With a gasp, her eyes flash open to view the dark that seems to encompass her cell. With a small breath of energy restored to her, she slowly lifts herself into a sitting position, her legs smearing with red from the puddle on the floor.

...What the hell...?

She blinks her eyes a few times, staring with a focused expression into the cell. The gray stone walls are gone for some reason... replaced with what looks like ink. In fact, the entire cell appears to be pulsing a liquid black. Rightly confused, she turns her head slowly, trying to catch sight of the door... it's gone as well.

...This isn't a vision. I can still tell this is real. So what the hell's going on?

Her gaze darkens as she scans the room. An uneasy feeling creeping up her spine almost by itself. She shivers lightly, almost confused by her reaction. As she shivers though, the dark walls begin to pulse and shift. She blinks once, staring at the pulsations with fascination. Slowly the black mass begins to take a new blood red color, similar to a drop of ink being diluted in a glass of water, the red ripples outward from the center of the wall, expanding its color to every part of the wall. Her eye twitches lightly as the colors begin to slowly converge upon themselves, forming a blood-red silhouette of a woman with long hair being held up by her wrists attached to chains. She swallows, realizing it symbolizes her.

As she comprehends it, the image of a large, hunch-backed demon materializes next to her, carrying a giant scythe in one hand. The image forms a dark grin on the demon's face, as it reaches into the formless red mass, pulling out a long, metal poker with a crossed circle adorning the end of the instrument. Through her ears a sudden howl of voices passes through her senses, making her eyes half shut as the demonic image plunges the poker through the woman's shoulder. Blood still clinging to her lips, Krystianna lets out a choked gasp as the image on the wall is impaled. Frustratingly, it doesn't stop there. Over and over, the demon forms jagged spears of all sizes from the red void in the wall, sliding each of them into another part of the woman. Some strike like lightning, some the demon pushes slowly through, cackling as the victim screams in pain. As her heart rate picks up, Krystianna nearly collapses from her weakened knees. Her eyes widen in a strange, uncontrollable horror as the demon grips its scythe, rearing it back above his head inexorably as the woman twitches in pain, clinging desperately to life. Time almost stands still until the image finalizes, the scythe plunging deep into her chest, through her heart. Feeling her own heart beat heavily, the cleric nearly screams in horror, the blackness bulging from the image and rippling like an untamed dimensional wall.

This is insane!! What the hell IS this?! I.. I... I can't stop shaking! Why am I so frightened!?

As she tries to make sense of it, distant howls and screams shoot through her mind like one of the pokers. She forces her hands over hear ears with what strength she managed to regain, trying to block out the noises.

It's everywhere...! I can't concentrate! ..Why!? This isn't in my head! RRgg..!

"STOP IT!!" She finds herself shouting, unrestrained anger in her voice. As she yells, the screams only grow louder, images of far worse clouding every inch of the black. The cleric swallows roughly, glaring at the rippling scene. She grips her chest to try and keep her heart from beating out of her chest. Sheer adrenaline beginning to kick in, she lifts her shoulders and grits her teeth, staring daggers at the floor.

...Now I get it.

"Enough with the theatrics you fear-gorging parasite." She snarls out, looking straight at the image of a demon ripping a man limb from limb. "Your show has all the depth and subtly of a dwarven sledgehammer." Before she can speak another word, a hand shoots out from the blackness and grips her neck. She gasps and opens her eyes in shock, the dark images suddenly shattering and fading as though they never existed. In its place though, is Ilthsek, angrily holding her throat and rushing to the wall of the dungeon. With a hard slam, the demon pins her to the wall with his hand tight around her neck, leaving her feet dangling two inches from the ground. Her eyes widen lightly and she gags harshly, her hands gripping his wrist to hold herself up to keep from choking to death.

"You dare talk that way to ME?!" The demon yell out, his very voice making the chains on the ceiling rattle from his anger. "I have broken the will of a thousand of the bravest men in history! The very notion of a pathetic woman priestess defying me is LUDICRIOUS." With a sweep of his hand, he tosses Krystianna into the corner of the room like a rag doll. She smacks into the stones and collapses into a heap on the floor, leaving a smear of blood a foot above her. As she tries to numb the pain, Ilthsek storms towards the corner, lifting her face towards his by her hair. She winces as he snarls at her. "Armaeis did a number on you." He snarls out, his snorts of hot breath pushing back Krystianna's blood soaked bangs. "I would gladly do FAR worse for your arrogance. But you must remain alive until the ritual." Leaving it at that, the demon lets her hair go, letting her nearly collapse on herself.

..Damn it.... I really have to keep my mouth shut when I insult people.

"You are nothing to me." Ilthsek states bluntly, reaching for her wrists and lifting them above her head. "Less than a stray dog in your human world. I only take solace in the fact that when you die, I will be there to drink in every last ounce of fear and despair." Laughing darkly, he clasps her wrists in shackles, leaving them suspended above her head. "You will beg and cry... like all the others. And it will be sweet." He says slowly, staring at her face with a wide smile.

I'd tell you to go to hell... but that's a bit pointless isn't it? ...And.. I think my voice box is crushed...

"Glare all you like, your spirit will break in the end." Ilthsek says with a grave tone. With the cleric unable to speak, the demon gets to his feet, laughing with amusement. "So fragile..." He muses to himself, walking from the cell and slamming to door, the force making the walls lightly vibrate again. As the cell returns to silence once again, Krystianna's head hangs weakly from her position, a sly but weak grin passing by her face.



"Don't forget, I was raised among thieves." Krystianna finds herself reminding the same group of people as before.

"Do... do you mean you-? How?!" The young, inquisitive man suddenly asks, Krystianna laughing lightly at the question.

"When he was strangling me..." She laughs out, a hint of pain in her voice. "He was so angry he didn't even notice my hand in his pockets, fishing out whatever I could get."

"That's amazing!!" The young man blurts out, wide-eyed and amazed. The pink-haired cleric smiles to him, leaning over and gently ruffling his blue hair.

"Calm down you." She says, lightly chuckling to herself. "Ultimately it was just a bit of false hope I managed to claim. Nothing more." She looks over the group, looking almost sage-like. "That'll happen a lot in life.'

"So then what happened? Did you try to escape? I mean... you HAD to escape!" A young woman asks.

Actually... that's still up in the air at this point. This might not be my future...

"That's almost another story in itself." Krystianna says softly. "But we'll get to it soon. after all... a lot happened in that cell. More than it really deserves."

[Lighteria]

"...Ye gods..." The headmistress stammers, undisguised disgust crossing her face. In her hand she grips the sides of a safe deposit box from the vault in the basement of the mayor's house. Tucked neatly in the box, of course, is the mayor's left hand and wrist. The flesh of the hand is covered in scars along with a distinctive symbol etched into the back of the hand. Forcing herself to inspect the rune, the elder cleric slowly recognizes it for a curse mark.

"The villagers were cursed with anti-white marks..." She says quietly, replacing the box, unable to stare at it any longer, already fighting back a wave of revulsion. She quickly back steps toward the door of the vault and takes a moment to settle her stomach and mind. As she calms down, she mulls over the possibility of re-assembling the body and attempting to resurrect the poor woman. While it could be possible that her spirit still resides in a close plain to her body, it would be a horrible shock and removing such a powerful curse mark from who knows how many body parts... The effort may simply be too much, especially with the possibility of demons being close by.

"I can't risk this." She says quietly, looking back towards the bloodstains. While the overall sight of the vault is disturbing, the boot prints left in the red on the floor confirms her suspicions. There was someone here before her but after the demons. Perhaps the girl's appearance in her meditation wasn't a trick? If that's true, one can only imagine what happened to her if the demons caught up... Having witnessed the brutality inflicted on the village, the possibilities send a shiver through the cleric's spine. It's foolish to think she is alive still. Of course, even with all this new information, the most crucial question still remains.

Where is this rift?!

There must be a clue somewhere... perhaps a quick sweep of the town is in order...



No.. more... I'm not a teacher or a prophet... Stop showing me those people...
You will see them as long as your mind forces an escape.
Bloody... demons... ..Oh gods, I'm going cold.
You have lost a great deal of blood.
Why? Why haven't I died yet?
Are you giving up?
SHUT UP!! You act like this pain is nothing...
It isn't. You must overcome it or die. That is all.
Stop... talking... I'm sick of arguing with myself...
You will fall into hopelessness and di-
I DON'T NEED YOU!! I don't need ANYONE!!
...
I... am Krystianna! I went through hell before... And I've NEVER broken! NO ONE will break me!!
Not bandits.
Not demons.
Not even myself.

So you can crawl back into whatever corner of my mind you came from lady. Because there's no way in this hell that I'm going give in to THESE people!

...

...Then continue.



The voice breaking away, Krystianna's eyes suddenly shoot open, her face nearly expressionless. As her head lifts up, she begins to feel the rough bark of an old tree press against the fabric of her robes. As her eyes focus, she catches the faint flicker of candles placed in the windows of her home town, the veil of dusk already enveloping the surrounding forests and fields. It only takes a moment of comprehension to understand where she is. She sighs to herself and sits back against the tree, not even bothering to turn her head.

"Just focus Krysti..." Krystianna's mother says softly, holding a young version of Krystianna in her lap.

"I will mommy!" She says with an excited smile, her hands raised in front of her as though she's holding an invisible snow globe. The two of them smile, watching the empty space between her hands excitedly, the child's palms beginning to glow a gentle blue.

"That's the way..." Her mother says, putting her hands on Krysti's shoulders for encouragement. "The goddess will give you the power. You just need to believe. In her and in yourself..."

"I believe mommy!" Child-Krystianna says with increasing excitement. Present-day Krystianna nearly wretches at her own words, the very concept of her own past blind faith stirring deep hatred and bitterness she can barely suppress. She fumes, but her past self squeals in glee, a glowing ankh appearing between her hands. "I did it!!"

"It's perfect Krysti." Her mother says with a smile, gently putting her hands over the blue glow. "The goddess granted you this... your own special power. The power to heal the injured. It's yours and no one can take it away." As she speaks, she looks to the skies in reverence, a calm smile on her face.

"It's my power..."
"It's my power..." Krystianna says at the same time as her child self, the two of them looking to their own hands as it glows a faint blue.

"It is all her work, Krysti..." Krystianna's mother continues, gazing up to the sunset... Another piece of God's work in her eyes. "The trees, the animals... Every living thing that makes this world so beautiful..." Hearing her mother, the young Krystianna looks into the sky in wonder, the sun setting over the distant horizon.

"People too?" She asks her mother, eyes fixated on the golden plains.

"Yes, people too." Her mother says with a wise sort of smile. "Through her, we find the power to heal within ourselves." Her mother leans forward a bit to be closer to Krysti. "I'm very proud of you. You've learned to find your own powers of healing very fast." Expecting thanks, she looks to her daughter's face. Krstianna, however, doesn't respond right away. Her gaze is distant, fixed on the horizon and seemingly staring into another world.

"Why did she make us so we'd hurt each other?"
"Why did she make us so we'd hurt each other?" Krystianna again echoes her younger self, this time her head hung and watching the ground instead of the sky like her child self. Her mother blinks at the question and doesn't respond for a moment, needing time to have a good response.

"...She... gave us free will, Krysti." She says softly, gently rubbing her daughter's shoulder. "Some people just misuse it."

"But why's it even there in the first place?" She asks innocently, turning her head this time to look to her mother's face. The older cleric shakes her head at the child, trying to come up with another response.

"We don't know Krysti." Her mother says, shaking her head. "Some say the Gods of Darkness changed us... gave us bad emotions. Some say it's a test for humans, to be as good as they can be while resisting evil..." She smiles, hugging Krysti gently. "Whatever the reason... you're a good girl Krysti. I know you'll never misuse it." The child nods, a smile reforming on her face.

"I won't mommy... I promise."


"...I broke that promise mom." Krystianna suddenly says, turning her head to the side so her gaze barely catches her mother's outline. "I killed a man." She grimaces. "The same man who lead those bandits... The ones that killed you."

As she speaks, the world slowly grinds to a halt. In the golden hue of the sun, her mother stands up to face her, blocking the rays and casting the older Krystianna into shadow.

"You're still a naive little girl, Krystianna." Her mother says calmly, her entire body glowing a light blue. "Though you gained the power of a cleric, you never fully understood the need for reverence."

"Reverence?!" Krystianna spits out, standing up from the tree, planting herself firmly in her mother's shadow. "For what mom? For the Goddess? For all the elemental Gods of the world? You lived your entire life in reverence! You died!! I prayed my hardest to those cold, uncaring bastards in the sky! They did nothing!"

"I am with them now, Krystianna." Her mother counters with a calm voice. "Even in your darkest hour they will light your path. Even if it is to the hereafter...."

Krystianna swallows, her stomach clenching in revulsion. Still, without missing a beat, her mother smiles and extends her hand.

"My dear daughter... The gods have brought your mind to me. You are so close to death... and though I wish it weren't true, I know now that they wished your final, lonely hour to be with me. To return you to their light, and back into my arms." With that, she opens her arms wide, smiling and glowing an angelic hue. Krystianna swallows, watching her mother in a stupefied awe, the image and what could be the truth reaching her very core. Her hand shakes, remembering the blood she'd lost in the cell and realizing she's probably already bled out by now.

"So that's it?" She asks suddenly, looking up to her mother's face. "I'm dead? All this self reflection... was just a way for the gods to make my mind reach this point?"

"They never left your side." Her mother says softly, shaking her head. "You understand now that they wished you to have peace in the end, even in such a horrible place, and even with your disbelief."

"How.... kind of them." Krystianna mutters venomously, looking to the side. "What a great gift as I lie bleeding to death."

"Please Krysti..." Her mother pleads gently. "You said it yourself, you're bleeding to death. Your visions aren't simply mad illusions, you are on the threshold of life and death. Your father is uneasy from your last vision, please come... I can show you true peace of the soul. We can make amends with your father..."

"If DAD cared anything for me," She counters suddenly. "and he should, he would be THRILLED I'm getting on with my life." She laughs brokenly, walking up to her mother. "And make no mistake... I'm going to LIVE."

With her teeth grit and her brow furrowed, Krystianna glares up to her mother's face, determined and deeply angered. As she stares though, her mother's hand calmly lifts and rests on her daughter's cheek.

"You're already dead, child." She says, staring beyond Krystianna's face. The young cleric blinks a moment and whips around, seeing the golden field slowly blend into a view of the cell. She swallows hard, seeing her body hanging limply from the chains in the corner of the wall, blood trickling like thin red strings all down her arms and neck.

"N-no..." The young cleric stammers, making a sudden step towards her body, the scene of the cell beginning to fade from the scene as it had appeared. Her mother smiles sadly and walks up to her back, her hands resting on her daughter's shoulders.

"You have suffered enough, my dearest daughter." She speaks, gently hugging Krystianna's shoulders. "It's time to rest..."

The young cleric's fingers twitch lightly as she stares at fading remnants of the cell, her mind racing with panic. As she watches, a glowing pair of hands from behind her mother rest upon her shoulders. She lightly gasps, a warm, loving feeling beginning to envelop her mind's form.

"I see..." The girl suddenly speaks, in a calmer voice. "This is all real... I'm not having an insane vision. You're really my mother... and this really is the place between life and death..."

"You see it clearly then." Her mother replies, watching the cell as well. "You eyes are finally open, open to the wonderful afterlife our goddess has in store for us. Together." Her arms tighten around her shoulders, though still remaining gentle, her voice lowering into a whisper. "Terin misses you too."

"Oh I'm sure I'll see him soon enough." Krystianna says in a ghostly exhale, sounding oddly frank. "After all, I won't be able to get on with my life if I keep mourning the three of you in the back of my head."

"Krysti..." Her mother's smile fades into worry, no longer certain she understands. "Your life-"

"It's funny when you think about it." She interrupts suddenly, the scene of the cell ceasing to fade for the moment. "You hear all sorts of stories about a child who grows up strong... swearing an oath to enact vengeance upon her family's killers... It keeps them going, knowing they're avenging people who were close to them, I guess." She laughs out, nearly startling her mother. "But you're already avenged. That day 7 years ago... When I plunged that dirk into that sinister man's back... He bled to death on that forest floor... and I left behind that dagger and... my innocence."

A tear falls from her eye, the bloody dagger appearing in her hand. Her mother looks down at her hand, her grasp around her weakening again.

"I went through hell those two years I traveled with the bandits... locked in a cage like an animal. Begging for leftovers and forced to heal the worst men... I had to heal that cut Terin made on that bandit's leg..." She laughs painfully, gripping the hilt tighter. "But I escaped... killed the leader who ordered the assault and fled into the night... free again." She looks to the side, her gaze barely on her mother and the luminous form behind her. "Should it have all ended there mom?"

"O-of course not..." Her mother replies, her hands retracting from her daughter's shoulders, her grip weakened.

"I should have moved on then... Vengeance is supposed to do that." She shrugs, looking up to the darkening sky in thought. "But I didn't. I still bitterly mourned your deaths. Even if I didn't talk about it, it was still there... bubbling under the surface." She shuts her eyes, another tear falling. "I guess I missed our peaceful days together... Our happy lives snatched away... I cursed the gods for not doing anything about it as well..."

With a single motion, she plunges the bloody dirk into the glowing hand on her shoulder. An unearthly voice shakes the mental plains, groaning in a pained sadness, the hands lifting from Krystianna's shoulders. Her mother gasps in horror, stumbling backwards in shock as her daughter turns around with a smirk.

"What-! What are you doing?!" Her mother screams, looking to the glowing figure as it painlessly removes the dagger from its hand.

"It's time I moved on mom." The young cleric says with what seems like a crazy smile on her face. "I'm not the same kid who you taught about the gods. I've grown. I renounced those worthless planar beings seven years ago and I'll never go back." She smirks to the glowing figure as it stares at her. "And just as I freed myself with that dagger seven years ago, I'll free myself from your grasp as well."

"Krysti!!" Her mother yells, stumbling forward, exasperated. "This is the goddess!!!"

"Yep." Krystianna shrugs lightly. "I'm through with her. All of them. I have been for a while. Today though, I'm done with you as well." She walks up to her mother and gives her a tight hug, her mother not returning the gesture out of confusion. "I love you mom. But I can't keep mourning you forever." Breaking the hug, the young cleric turns and walks towards the scene of the cell.

"Krysti. You're dead." Her mother says suddenly, trying to regain her composure. "I know it's hard to accept but-"

"SHUT IT!!" Krystianna snaps, whipping around and pointing her mother. "I can still feel a pulse of life beating in my chest. As long as that's there I can overcome ANYTHING. And I can do it WITHOUT the help of careless, impotent gods." Her arm lowers and she walks again. "I'll take suffering over this 'salvation' any day, you can be sure of that."

Her mother recoils in shock, watching as her daughter enters the fading scene of the dungeon cell, the golden planes shifting to white nothingness. So too does the glowing figure watch as her mind returns to her body, its expression unmoved, only taking in the scene.

"Krysti...." Her mother's voice echoes, Krystianna's eyes opening once again.



Like you told me before mom. It's MY power. No one can take it away from me.

My magic... They're blocking my powers with their own curses, but it's still inside me. I can keep myself alive through my own will, as long as my magic holds up. No matter how many scars and cuts my outer body gets.

She coughs out another mouthful of blood, the majority of it dribbling down her chin and neck. The chain holding her wrist rattles loudly as her arm twitches, trying to return to life again. Her chest heaves a moment, trying to force air through her throat so she can speak again. Her voice cracks, her head still hanging, only managing a painful, shattering groan. She grits her teeth, feeling her speech returning to her as her head lifts up slowly, her eyes opening, slowed by dried blood over her eyelids. It takes a few seconds for her vision to gain some focus. As it does, she starts making out the stoic face of a demon staring back at her. She blinks once, noticing his face not quite as twisted as the others. Indeed, you could almost mistake him for a purely dark skinned man if not for the fangs and giant horns. Her face shifts lightly in confusion as they stare at each other, not entirely sure what he's doing.

"..."
"..."

"You can speak?" Ahretahs asks.

"Y-yeah." Krystianna manages to say through pain and strained voice. There's another moment of silence as the demon raises an eye brow at her. Her head lightly shifts backwards, again confused.

"...From what the other two told me, I had expected you to be insulting my manhood by now." The demon says frankly, still kneeling in front of her, looking at her face.

"...From what the other two DID, I had expected you to be playing mind games by now." Krystianna snaps back in a low, weakened voice. The demon cracks a smirk and backs away, sitting on the floor instead of kneeling, the sight of a medical kit at his side just making it into the cleric's view.

"They are very base. I am not." He says simply, his smirk fading as he opens the kit, digging around withered scraps of gauze for a bandage.

"Aren't you?" The cleric states more than asks, her eyes fixed on the kit.

"I am not." He replies simply, taking a long, linen bandage from the kit and setting it to the side. Krystianna lifts the eyebrow this time, watching the demon reach into his pocket and lift out a key ring. He carefully selects a key within his large claw and moves to unlock her wrists. She shivers as the steel finally gives way, her arms falling weakly to her sides, unable to muster the strength to hold them up. Ahretahs glances to her face a moment before lifting her left arm up carefully, inspecting the gashes and cuts and snorting with disapproval.

"Why?" She asks simply, breaking the silence. The demon looks back to her face with a hint of curiosity.

"Excuse me?"

"Why aren't you that base?" She asks again, looking into his cat-like eyes. Ahretahs lifts an eye brow again, staring at her face, gauging her sincerity.

"...That is a lengthy story." He states simply, lifting the bandage with his opposite hand, beginning to carefully wrap the cuts on her arms. There's a long pause as she watches him work.

"Those two mocked me and beat the hell out of me for pride and amusement." She speaks up after a second. "So what? ...You're just nice?" There's a moment where Ahretahs looks at her face where she thinks he may haul off and punch her. Luckily, he only keeps wrapping her cut, his face remaining stoic.

"...I am not like them." He says, cutting the bandage and taking a deep breath, letting out a clearly annoyed sigh. "It's obvious neither of them have very much self control, by the look of you."

"No kidding." She mutters, her arm being let down and her other being slowly lifted for inspection.

"I overestimated them and their desire to feed... again." He mutters, wiping the blood from her right arm. "I assume Ilthsek scared you half to death." His face turns grim suddenly, looking to her. "Armaeis. Did he despoil you?" Krystianna shudders in disgust at the question, her eye twitching at the thought.

"He didn't." She says with undisguised contempt for the question.

"He came close though, didn't he?" He asks with a serious tone. The cleric gives him a slow nod and he growls with irritation. "I should have known. That worm is impossible to work with." He starts to wrap her arm with a little more force.

"Not close friends I take it." She quips, holding back a wince from the pain in her arm.

"Demons do not make 'friends'." He says sternly, snapping the bandage off her arm. "I'm turning you around." Krystianna blinks, the statement being rather sudden. Still, she doesn't protest as Armaeis gently moves her in a kneeling position, her bloody back turned towards him. He looks her over and lets out another irritated sigh.

"...So why aren't you... 'feeding' like them?" The cleric asks, not really wanting to know but still very curious. The demon looks up at her face turned towards his, also a curious look on his face. There's a few seconds of pause while he considers the answer.

"I don't have an aspect. So I don't feed off one." He states, wiping blood from her back carefully. Krystianna blinks. He'd said that in the way you'd say 'he has hair, I don't', like it's blaringly obvious. She looks to the floor, thinking on how to get him to elaborate without directly calling him an idiot. Fortunately as he dabs a rather sensitive part of her back he speaks up again. "Demons can take on aspects to increase their power. Some take emotional aspects, other sin aspects."

He sounds like he's about to give me a lecture...

"Ilthsek is an emotion aspect demon. He feeds off of fear. As you found out, he is physically quite strong since he gorges himself on victims fear at every opportunity. Emotion aspects are very simple, but are easy to consume so demons like that tend to be very strong and brutal. Ilthsek is a special case though. He does not rely on his imposing figure. He uses tricks and illusions to play on a person's deepest and most primal fears. He is truly skilled at the art of fear and subsequently he has become very powerful, though somewhat... simple. Regardless, I need that kind of power on my side and I have provided him with a good outlet, therefore we support each other and work together." He pauses and looks to her neck. "Lean forward."

"And Armaeis?" Krystianna asks, leaning forward. It takes her a second to fully realize she just complied with a demon without question.

"He is a sin aspect demon." Ahretahs states, brushing her hair to the side to inspect the wounds on her head. "Being a sin aspect is very complex. It's not as simple as feeling an emotion and gorging yourself on it. Sin aspects gain power whenever they are present for or cause the act and they tend to gain power in subtler and more powerful ways than mere emotion aspects, despite the lack of sustenance. ...As you may have guessed, Armaeis is a Lust Sin demon. He was... a brilliant one at that. He could weave his essence into mortals and demons alike to manipulate their carnal desires. I found myself deeply impressed by the couplings he managed to manipulate and feed from. His powers are numerous and complex and I recognized that and we have been helping each other for a very long time." He stops his bandaging for a moment, getting lost in thought. Krystianna glances back to him, managing to recognize that expression even on a demon face.

"What happened between you?" She asks with a far softer voice than is appropriate for talking with a demon. Ahretahs looks to her face to gauge her sincerity again. Satisfied, he lets out an honest sigh and forces her head down again to bandage it.

"A few months ago, we went to the surface on a small raid. He found a farm girl sleeping alone with the cows. He went in to manipulate her dreams towards lust as feed from that. ...However, he managed to startle a horse mid way through and the girl woke up from the commotion. Normally you would expect the girl to scream and we'd end up leaving, but he'd done such masterful work with her subconscious that she woke up with only the singular desire to bed someone. Armaeis was there... I suppose he looked just human enough in the dark for her to throw herself at him." He lets out another sigh, wrapping a bandage through the cleric's hair. "He'd never coupled with a human before that point. It was a sort of... revelation for him. He had worked so hard at manipulation and suddenly he realizes he can get the same feeding from simply forcing himself on someone... The last few months he's become extremely debaucherous, lust for lust's sake... He's far from the brilliant demon he was now. It's sickening." He growls in his throat, wrapping a final bandage across her forehead and snapping it. "I'm turning you around again."

Krystianna blinks, being turned towards him this time. He shifts her mostly bare right leg in front of him, calmly inspecting the cuts and gashes on it. The cleric watches his face, offering no resistance to the motions, though finding herself occasionally light headed from the blood loss still.

"And you...?" She suddenly asks, looking right at his face, her hair strung over the bandages. Ahretahs looks to her face, holding back revealing any more emotion.

"I don't have an aspect. You may gain great power very quickly from aspects, but I believe it limits you." He looks down to her leg, beginning to bandage it. "I study necromancy and the arcane. I believe I will gain real power, without subjecting myself to the corrupting taint of aspects. That is all."

"So you managed to rip holes between these dimensions large enough for you three to get through. They need your knowledge to get humans and you need their power for fighting?" Krystianna inquires, still looking at his face. Ahretahs looks up from bandaging her leg to meet her gaze with a mix of respect and irritation.

"You are astute and speak your mind. It's little wonder why they beat the hell out of you. You talk in a tone that suggests we're even remotely equal."

"Oh trust me. We're not equal." Krystianna says, clearly without thinking it through. "I'll end up on top."

There's a long pause. The cleric immediately realizes she just shot her mouth off again and subtly shifts her jaw to bite her tongue. Ahretahs doesn't hit her though. Instead he grins and starts to laugh in front of her, his voice echoing with a dark reverb he didn't let out when talking normally. Krystianna feels another shiver up her spine, listening to him.

"Now I don't blame those two for not controlling themselves. You would infuriate an arch demon of patience." He smirks, shifting to her other leg to bandage. The cleric manages to crack a smile, sort of amused by his quip.

"I'll take that as a compliment." She says with a light chuckle, her chest constricting in pain when she laughs. She hunches over lightly from the shock and groans. Ahretahs frowns, watching her.

"You undoubtedly have internal injuries. But given your strength of speech, you will live a few days at least." He states bluntly, wrapping up a gash in her thigh.

"Comforting." She mutters, trying to bare the pain internally... mostly out of pride.

"I wasn't trying to be comforting." He quips, snipping the bandage on her leg short and finishing the wrap.

"Could have fooled me." She says suddenly, looking to the ground. Ahretahs lifts an eye brow at the remark.

"Excuse me?" The demon says, half glaring, clearly miffed at being contradicted.

"You just seemed like you were trying, that's all." The cleric says, lifting her eyes to meet his but not lifting her head. "Patching up my cuts... telling me stories... Sure feels like you're just trying to be nice."

"You're sorely mistaken." Ahretahs says in a low voice, teeth gritting in anger between words. "I am only patching your wounds so you survive long enough to be useful."

"And the stories? Are you just in the habit of telling your deepest feelings to your prisoners?" Ahretahs' head rears backwards for a moment.

"....You asked-"

"That was so much more than I asked." Krystianna cuts him off, leaning forward and supporting herself with her arms, looking up at his face. "You needed to get that off your chest, didn't you? Why to me?"

Ahretahs' eye twitches as he stares back into her eyes, not responding to her question. He shifts backwards slightly and looks to the side to avoid her eyes, getting a strange feeling when staring too long.

"...Because I'll be dead soon anyway?" The cleric prods, leaning in closer with each question as he shifts back. "...Because you do that to prisoners? .... ...Because you trust me?"

"I do not-"

"Why not?" She leans in further, Ahretahs leaning back far enough to need support from his arms behind him as the cleric keeps advancing. "I was put through hell for two years... You know what I would have given to have someone to talk to who wouldn't smack me around for mouthing off?" There's a long pause. Ahretahs finds himself staring into her eyes, looking uncomfortable yet distant.

"...Demons... we do not... 'confide'." He manages to get out, still staring into her eyes, his face softening. "We kill and plot. There is no room for such... ridiculous emotional baggage."

"Do you really feel nothing?" The cleric asks, leaning in again with a sympathetic look, her face close to his. "I won't judge you for having feelings. I'm not that kind of person."

Ahretahs spends a moment staring into her eyes and pondering her words. Krystianna only stares back at him, waiting for a reply with the same comforting look. As if acting by itself, the demon's right hand lifts from the floor and lightly grasps her shoulder. The cleric only has time for a light gasp before the demon grasps her shoulders with both hands, leaning forward against her chest tightly, his lips locking with hers. Krystianna's hands ball into fists for an instant as she gasps for air, stealing his breath. Her chest tingles lightly and she blushes, her hands suddenly lifting from the floor and grasping the demon's chest, pulling him tighter to her, the kiss deepening between them.

A minute passes by with Ahretahs' arms caressing her back as Krystianna rubs his chest, the kiss only breaking after they both open their eyes and catch each others gaze. The cleric blushes red and the demon gasps as though he's caught himself. As he watches the girl hold a hand over her lips, shaking like a leaf, he steadies his breathing and shakily gets up from the floor. The cleric turns her head to watch him rush to the door and slam it behind him as though fleeing. The lock clicks. And there's silence.

"..." Krystianna shivers and hangs her head, her eyes shutting and her lips still quivering.

There... is... a disgusting irony that the most tender kiss I've ever had was from a demon.

She sits on her legs and opens her eyes, her face contorting in a bizarre mixture of sadness and guilt. Her right hand opens, a small, runed stone shimmering in her palm.

Even more disgustingly ironic... I'M going to be the jerk who ruins the trust.

She shakes her head slowly and looks to the rock golem outside the cell, gently grasping the stone, her other hand pulling the key from the folds of her clothes.