#they immediately rush to your side and armor you up with their protection of infinite light but to release the charge they have over you

[1-1-s1ay-2-2]

Guardian Angels from Heaven are waiting for you to call on them! ✨😇💯

The most important list you'll ever need!

Archangel Ariel -- Angel of strength and support of material needs.

Archangel Chamuel -- Intuitive angel of unconditional love.

Archangel Gabriel -- Angel of good messages and positive communication.

Archangel Haniel -- Angel of grace and feminine spirituality.

Archangel Jeremiel -- Angel of clarity and understanding.

Archangel Jophiel -- Angel of beauty and confidence. The beauty of life and positive energy -- thoughts, feelings, and emotions.

Archangel Metatron -- Angel of healing and protection by pushing away unwanted (negative) energy.

Archangel Michael -- Angel of protection over every aspect of your life.

Archangel Raguel -- Angel of fairness, justice, and harmony.

Archangel Raphael -- Angel of health and traveling.

Archangel Raziel -- Angel of guidance and opportunity.

Archangel Sandalphon -- Twin angel of Metatron. Angel of motivation who delivers prayers for us to the divine realm of heaven and helps us stay close to our faith. Also helps us with our commitment and confidence in reaching our life goals.

Archangel Uriel -- Angel of focus, concentration, and inspiration.

Archangel Zadkiel -- Angel of freedom and forgiveness.

The angels in heaven were appointed by God our Father to watch over us as we live our earthly lives. The angels cannot intervene in our lives unless we call upon them. Their protection is designated just for human beings on earth because God our Father loves us dearly and only wants for our safety and wellbeing. If you do not call upon them by name, they cannot help. But if you call upon them by name, they answer the call and they protect you immediately -- without fail.

It's their job. They are ANGELS after all. That's what God has angels for...to protect humanity against all the negative energy that bombards us from the spiritual principalities of darkness. That which we cannot see but the angels know how to protect us against.

WHEN YOU CALL, your guardian angels rush to your side, and they activate their angel charge and they protect you just as God instructed them to do! Amen in Jesus' name.

[sasorikigai]

Scorpion, I dare you to kiss all of the Sub-Zeroes in your immediate vicinity

Send me “ I dare you to kiss...” + a name or an URL and my muse will have to kiss that character || anonymous, mention of @indulgentia || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ❄️ || Life can be magnificent and overwhelming simultaneously - that had been the whole tragedy of Hanzo Hasashi’s life. Without beauty, love, or danger, it would almost be easy to live, and damn the consequences, as Scorpion moved with the celerity of his heat and heart’s force. For his relationship with Sub-Zero had not only birthed out of convenience, proximity, or chemistry alone. He needs more than the person’s physical presence to maintain a meaningful connection, for everything that remains speak of the metaphysicality of captivating, ensorcelling gravitation, as Scorpion has felt the sensation of being breathless and weak, crumpled by the entrance of another person inside his mind and soul. 

Even when Hanzo Hasashi’s soul was set in eternal darkness, in stifled frustration and grief with the irreversible fact that he could not be in the Shirai Ryu and his family’s stead; he had risen in blossoming light and effulgent flames. The taste of his love that bestows Kuai Liang in such a stark resemblance of his brutal devotion and raw honesty, for this love has taken a life of its own. It lives, it breathes, and dreams of nothing, but Sub-Zero in both night and day, as Hanzo lets himself be filled with luscious and loving and full of tenderness and passion. That mystery, that combination, that purely living miracle; tenderness and lust rolling and rolling into one as he adheres to his paperwork out of necessity than productivity. He considers going out for a run around the Compounds, listen to the nature’s quelling music and write without any distractions, but decides to meditate and keep Sub-Zero in the center of his conglomerating thoughts. 

The minutes not spent in Sub-Zero’s presence are counted impatiently, and time seems much too hurried when his beloved becomes near. All Scorpion can do is savor every moment with him and hope that they span lifetimes and beyond with each other. For they both had conquered Death and Netherrealm together, and their touches, whether vicious fatal blows or tenderest gossamer brushes of their hardened, blemished flesh, every point of contact between them felt and still feels important. A rush of energy and relief, as the ferocious seizing of one another’s corporeal being will elicit the melting, malleable tenderness as the equilibrium of their elements will render both mitigated of their herculean trauma. 

If I were to place my lips upon yours, would the world stop? Would my gaze get lost within your eyes? Hanzo Hasashi’s touch upon Kuai Liang’s skin would trace imagination and reveal lost hearts of both Grandmasters. One that has roamed and found this haven that is each other. For the wretched world may ironically not be quite so cold with Sub-Zero in it, even if but for a little while. For every strife and torment and tribulation would be healed by the panacea of Kuai Liang’s love and sincerity, as Scorpion’s rage-filled flames would be considerably tempered, as the transparent disquietude of stark dualistic sentiments will perpetuate the eternally grimaced visage of the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster. The sudden triad of love, rage, and fear would surmount him every time when they were drifted off, against their desire, with their busy lives and specifically with the rising conflict between the Earthrealm and Outworld. 

With their merged worlds set ablaze in disquietude and usurping threats, Hanzo Hasashi sits, armor-clad, the quiet crackle of flames becoming wreaths against the cool rushing midnight air. As soon as the familiar arctic rush of Kuai Liang’s presence is sensed behind his erect back, in the stark déjà vu in reverse, he lets himself be in complete surrender in the indulgence of heat and passion. The basic instinct of his tenderest side manifesting with the mellowed intensity of his gaze, which swells with dripping hearth embers of love. 

“You have dragged me in the wretched landscape of Netherrealm all over again with your absence,” incredulous eyes shift to his back as Hanzo feels a tentative hand reaching for the nape of his neck, where the plated steel protects the most vulnerable part of his being. He would willingly come undone, mind, body, and soul all, as enthralling sparkle of his eyes flash so radiantly. Hanzo would let himself be collapsed there and then, as gently exhausted body sinking into Kuai Liang in a tight embrace elongates the concept of time and he’s hooked onto Sub-Zero’s lips like a clashing hook of wave and he is immediately blessed with such rhythmic ripple of his ribcage, as such thrilling energy proportionally glows as the expanse of his back quivers in flesh and muscles beneath his garments. “I could not sense your chi, I would have pursued you in your mission should I become aware of your coordinates.” 

In Hanzo Hasashi’s prominent display of dominant control, Kuai Liang matches the all-consuming cadence of passion. Even as the throes of lingering pain perpetuates, the electric pleasure shooting through his gut would mitigate the all too familiar sting of his injuries. The conjugal bond of ferrous sanguine and bruises that clamorously adorn with the spectacle of flesh, bones, and tissues, how Sub-Zero still holds the dazzling crystalline gaze, unmarred and untainted. As his cryomancy would newly blossom in a ray of alluring sapphire, drowning the exquisite ache of kombat, he will relish this corporeal carapace of happiness, even in the throes of ongoing war, which proves as ephemeral blessing in disguise at their both shared and respective hardship. 

The firmness of their sacred, divine love resembles boundless care, as their entangled limbs and two hardened hearts coming together in tender collision would persist infinitely. “I thought about you every day, every day, Kuai Liang,” Hanzo reluctantly parts, as gossamer whispers feel the tender warmth of Kuai Liang’s lips. His charged dark amber eyes collide shut upon endless staccato of their mingling lips, and behind all of his closed darkness behind the welled-up abyss where complete darkness resides, Scorpion lets the light seep into him. 

Concurrently, as Kuai Liang emblems with such souvenirs that would entirely make him Hanzo’s, his own grounding and fevered impression engrains in his mind and etches in his soul. An endless exploration to become ambulatory upon Hanzo’s exposed dark olive flesh, as his hands become shadows contouring and hollowing him out whole. How they would further coalesce and levitate into nothingness as more articles of clothing unrobe from their adhered bodies. “I am without the familiar fear that would lurk so nearly. The fear of my peace shattering, because of my unuttered screams would echo incessantly as it would become an impending reality,” Kuai Liang cradles the swell of Hanzo’s bearded cheeks, as he angles his face to deeply kiss him, a devouring kiss that would linger and enfold into handfuls of pecks, as the baritone chortle escapes from his parted lips. 

“There is no guilt that would render you numb and drowning in throes of despair, nor such helplessness that comes with the unending casket of defeat. We protect and cradle one another, Hanzo, for injustice shakes us to the core and stirs our humanity within. And I will go out of my ways not only as a warrior of Earthrealm, but as a lover in order to never let the stronghold of our love and protectiveness erode and crumble.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ❄️ || 

[dcnatural]

The Knight In Shining Armor

Word Count: 3123

Pairing: Reader x Arkham Knight!Jason Todd

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: When Scarecrow unleashed his terror in Gotham City, you decide to protect the defenseless, but soon find yourself in the hands of the Arkham Knight.

The moment the city wide alert was emitted, you knew it didn't include you. No one would care to evacuate an orphaned girl. So you watched from the window of the abandoned building you called home as the busses were filled with citizens and then disappeared into the horizon, heading towards safety. 

As the night fell onto Gotham, you shivered, knowing what was to come. There was no way you would make it out of this alive. A sob escaped your lips as the realization sunk in. You had survived alone in the streets of the most dangerous city in the world, and now it would all be over with a chemical cloud.

But as you listened to the radio, the news anchor announcing with a trembling voice the explosion in Ace's Chemicals, you decided that if you were going down,  you would go down fighting. The Batsignal illuminated the sky, a shining symbol of hope, reminding the poor unfortunate souls that hadn't been able to escape the city in time that perhaps it wasn't the end. And that hope inspired you to leave the relative safety that your home offered to venture into the dark streets, sure that you could also make a difference.

You knew you weren't the only upright citizen remaining, it was virtually impossible to empty a city as huge as Gotham in a matter of hours. And so, while Batman fought to stop Scarecrow and whichever other masked freak that decided to terrorize the town, you would protect the innocents from the commun thugs. 

Ducking behind trash bins, you waited until the group of soldiers that patrolled the alley walked past before you raced through the smashed display window of a costumes store. You didn't know where the soldiers had come from, but from the look of their equipment and weapons, you could only assume they were being handsomely rewarded by their services.

You tried not to think about what you would be facing as you rummaged the shop's inventory in search of what you had come for. If you were to fight the bad guys, you would need a costume. As a little kid, Batgirl had been your favorite hero. She showed the world that girls were as capable as men. You had cried when she disappeared. You knew that the only reason why someone like her would drop her career as a vigilante was death, and so you mourned her in silence.

But as you pulled a Batgirl outfit from a pile of trashed clothing on the floor, your grief gave way to courage. Even if it was just a cheap Halloween costume, you would don her legacy and make her proud. Whoever she had been, you were certain she would be smiling in heaven, happy that someone kept spreading her message.

The cheap spandex dug into your body, sweat making it stick uncomfortably to your skin. But that was only a minor inconvenience and you wouldn't let it stop you. You smiled at your reflection in the mirror. The yellow cape hung behind you, framing your purple clad figure. Your own black military boots stood out from the rest of the outfit, but since the costume didn't come with footwear, they would have to do. 

You didn't have batarangs, only your old and reliable crowbar; nor did you possess a grappling hook, but you had enough experience climbing into places you shouldn't to be positive that you would be fine without one. 

The patrolling soldiers entered your line of sight once more, and you hid behind the store's counter while you waited for them to turn the corner and disappear. It wasn't them you planned to fight.

Your small body passed unnoticed by the streets as you headed to the docks, where you knew most low lifes would be. Everything smelled of urine and old beer, and you grimaced as the nauseous scent filled your nostrils. A party of criminals hang around a lit barrel that served as a makeshift fireplace. A gagged police officer was tied up to a streetlamp in the center of the group, and they laughed as they took turns punching the defenceless man.

You forced yourself to relax before you sprung into the scene, kicking down the closest thug before they even noticed your presence. With a swing of your weapon you brought down another, and then jumped out of sight as they opened fire against you. 

Throwing a rock at the lit barrel, you caused it to collapse, engulfing the wooden floor in fire and making the three remaining criminals stumble away disoriented, more worried about not burning alive than killing you. A second too late you realized that unless you were quick enough, the cop would perish in the fire you started. You cursed loudly. Perhaps being a hero wasn't that easy after all. 

You held your breath to avoid inhaling smoke and rushed past the ablaze inferno separating you from the officer. Taking a knife that had been dropped on the floor, you cut off the restraints, freeing the man. The metal was hot against your palm, but you ignored the pain.

"Thank you, Batgirl", the cop said as you helped him onto his feet. "Go get them", he added, pressing his gun to your hand.

You nodded and took the weapon, trusting him to get to safety on his own. Somewhere close by, the thugs started shooting again, but you dodged every bullet. The heat was uncomfortable, the flames licked against your suit as you raced between hiding spots. The fire now covered the better half of the pier, making it unavoidable. 

Before you had a chance to ready your pistol, gunshots filled the air, followed by three damp thuds of limp bodies crashing to the ground. You crooked your neck to see who was your mysterious helper, but you couldn't see anyone in the darkness.

Suddenly, gloved hands wrapped around you, one covered your mouth to silence you and another keeping you close against your assailant's chest. Your grip on the gun faltered and it fell to the floor leaving you unprotected.

"What do we have here?", a modulated voice whispered close to your ear. You felt something hard pressing against the side of your neck and you froze. "Move and I will kill you, do you understand?"

You nodded immediately, terrified of the man holding you hostage. This definitely hadn't gone the way you had expected it to. The hand muzzling you moved away and the man chuckled as pleas that he let you go fell from your lips. Pathetic whines begging for mercy and you knew that he would only make fun of. But your desire to live was bigger than your pride.

He dragged you away from the burning pier and into a waiting car, shoving you inside before holstering back his gun. From outside, the vehicle resembled a military tank but the inside could very well belong to a fancy limousine, another demonstration of the wealth of this militia.

The leather seat was soft beneath your body and you ran your hands over the luxurious fabric, certain that it must have cost more than everything you had ever owned. 

Your captor settled in the seat in front of you and you took a good look at him. He didn't wear the same red and black uniform as the others, but rather a glassy gray suit with a stylized "A" on the chest. 

"The Arkham logo", you whispered and he hummed in agreement.

His face was hidden by a mirrored helmet and you noticed how badly destroyed your costume was. Red crept into your cheeks as you became self conscious of just how the tear in your cleavage exposed your breasts.

The car began to move, rumbling down the streets and you saw the abandoned streets passing by in a blur though the window.

“So, you are Batgirl ?”, he asked, the name sounding like a curse.

You tilted your chin up, glaring to where you supposed his eyes would be underneath the mask. “That’s right.” Your unsteady voice betrayed the brave facade you were putting forth. “And you are?”

“I don’t think you are in the position to ask questions here.”

You huffed. “What are you going to do? Kill me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. When he didn’t respond you laughed and shook your head. “Fine, I’ll just call you The Knight In Shining Armor, since it appears that’s the look you were going for.”

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could have sworn he smirked. “Close enough. It’s Arkham Knight, if you must know.”

You stayed quiet for the rest of the trip. He busied himself giving orders and shouting at the communicator in his armor while you fiddled with your cape absently minded. While you had dropped the gun in the pier, you still had the crowbar fastened to your utility belt. If you could smack him with enough strength to leave him disoriented and give you time to escape. The only problem was that you were trapped in a military grade vehicle. You sighed, it was hopeless.

“We arrived”, he announced unceremoniously. 

You bit your inner cheek and glanced outside. Instead of the dilapidated warehouses you were used to seeing, tall skyscrapers rose like spirals on the horizon. The mirrored glass windows reflected the moonlight and sniper lasers, creating an infinite amount of sparkling red beams. Your jaw dropped in awe.  

“Get out”, he commanded, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the car. Your whole body shook as he led you inside the front entrance of what seemed to be a department store. You sheepishly crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide your exposed skin. 

Mannequins littered the floor, expensive clothing draped all over the place like they were nothing, fancy jewelry tossed to the side to make way for the hyper technological equipment that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. Soldiers roamed all over the place, carrying boxes of ammunition or typing on tablets. Whoever these people were, they weren’t amateurs.

The Knight pressed the button and the elevator doors opened, revealing the golden inside of the cab. He nudged you forward and you entered, clutching onto the guardrails for support, since your legs had decided to stop working properly. The doors closed and the cabin jolted before starting to move upwards, causing you to yelp.

“Are you okay?” he asked, an edge of mockery in his tone.

You squinted and sucked in a deep breath. “Just not used to elevators”, you replied as you supressed the urge to throw up. 

The doors cracked open and you glanced at the screen on the top of the control panel, where the number 35 shone in green light. You shivered, you had never been in a building so tall.

When you didn’t step outside immediately, the Knight let out another low chuckle. “What? You are afraid of heights?”

“No!”, you quickly replied, hugging yourself tighter. Not wanting to let him think you were scared, you stepped outside.

Panoramic windows covered the circular shaped room, giving you a clear view of Gotham’s skyline. Right in front of you there was a bar counter, a tall shelf filled with liquors standing behind it. To your left, you noticed a large bed, sheets tossed all over the floor along with books and guns cartridges.

“You live here?”, you asked the Knight, who had already moved, reaching the bar and pouring two glasses of a caramel colored liquid.

“Just crashing”, he said. “Pretty nice, thought, isn’t it?”

You nodded along and sat in one of the tall silvery stools that lined the front of the bar. “So, when are you putting that bullet through my brain?”, you asked as you sipped your cup. The liquor burned your throat as it made its way down. 

He laughed. His hands reached behind his head and he removed his cowl, revealing a far younger face than you had expected. He couldn’t be much older than you. And he was the most handsome man you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes upon. 

His jet black hair was messy, wild locks sticking up in different directions and his blue eyes seemed to pierce deep into your soul. His face seemed to have been sculpted into perfection, from the sharp jawline to the curve of his nose. His lips were curved into a crooked smile and you wondered how it would be like to kiss them. His left cheek had a ‘J’ shaped scar in it but the rest of his skin was flawless.

“Wanna take a picture?”, he joked and you blushed, realizing that you had been staring.

You shifted your gaze to the floor. “Sorry.”

“No need to be”, he said as he jumped over the counter. “Make yourself at home. There’s a bathroom, but no shower. I have already asked someone to bring up some clothing. The good thing about setting base in a department store is that there’s no shortage of options to choose from.”

As he walked, you eyed his thick tights and sighed. Maybe a picture wasn’t a bad idea after all. He sat in front of a desk and began to type in the keyboard, analyzing data from the many monitors before shouting out orders.

You finished your drink and walked over to the window. Helicopters patrolled the sky and you could see the distinct forms of two airships. Looking down, the cars weren’t more than pebbles. 

“What the hell?”, you screamed and jumped backwards. A large winged creature flew by, it’s screeching sound echoing in the night.

“That again?”, the Knight said right behind you, his hot breath brushing against your neck. You hadn’t heard him getting up. “It’s harmless, although I have no idea of what ‘it’ is.”

“Why-- why are you keeping me here?”, you stuttered, suddenly terrified of what fate waited for you.

“Just thought it would be more comfortable than out in the streets,” he answered. “You were only going to get yourself killed.”

  “Oh”, the sound escaped your lips. You pivoted on your heels to face him. “I suppose that does make you my knight in shining armor. Thank you, I guess.”

“Anytime, princess”, he replied with a smirk. 

This close, it was impossible to ignore your desire to kiss him, and so, tiptoeing to reach his height, you pressed your lips against his. He went stiff and you pulled away, shame creeping into your face once more.

“Why?”, he asked before you could apologize.

“Why what?”

“Why did you kiss me just now?”

“Because I wanted to?”, you answered, unsure if it’s an acceptable response. “And I thought you want to.”

He snickered. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t. But you don’t know me either. And yet you saved me. Even though it seemed more like a kidnapping than a rescue. Besides, you are really good looking.”

“So are you.”

You weren't used to people giving you compliments, especially not when you were covered in smoke and wearing thorn out clothes. "You really think so?"

"I do."

"Can I kiss you again?", you asked shyly.

"You sure about that?"

You rolled your eyes and kissed him, not bothering with a reply. 

He wasted no time shoving you against the glass wall, gloved fingers pushing aside what remained of your outfit, tossing your belt aside. His tongue darted into your mouth and you moaned in response. He broke the kiss only to remove his suit before returning, with even more passion than before. It fell awkwardly to the floor, landing with a crashing sound that reverberated deep in your skull. His briefs went down next, releasing his erection and you almost choked at the sight of his bulging cock. He chuckled at your reaction.

You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer, and running your hands over the hard muscles of his chest. You traced his abs while he unhooked your bra, freeing your boobs. Taking a nipple between his fingers, he twisted and pinched it, earning panted cries from you. With the other hand he tugged down your panties, causing them to pool around your ankles. 

The cold window at your back was a sharp contrast to the warm body pressed against your front and goosebumps erupted on your skin. You swung your legs around his waist, feeling his hard-on brushing against your slick folds. His fingers dug into your asscheeks, supporting your weight. His lips sucked gently at your collarbone and you craned your neck to give him more room. You wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and guided it to your entrance. The head was smeared with pre-come, and added with your own wetness, it slid inside with ease. 

Obscene moans filled the room as your body stretched to accommodate his enormous length. Your nails carved into his back as he began to move his hips back and forth, pumping into you at a fast but steady pace. With every thrust, your body was shoved against the glass and you feared that it would give in and shatter.

He grunted as your walls tightened around him, burying his face in the crook of your neck and biting hard. You felt the skin break and smelled the faint metallic scent of blood. The thought of the marks he would leave only made you clench harder and he throbbed inside you.

Managing to hold you up with one arm, he used his thumb to draw circles on your clit, flicking his expert fingers on the bundle of nerves and adding to your pleasure. You began to rock your hips to meet his rhythm, eager for more friction. Each stroke of his cock managed to hit the perfect spot and a growing wave of warmth began to take over your body. Lost in pure ecstasy, you reached your peak, your muscles contracting to keep him close. His cock twitched shooting thick spurts of cum into you. You didn’t move until you felt him go soft and pull out with a wet pop .  

Your body felt weak and when you untangled your legs from his body you wobbled backwards, slumping against the wall. You threw your head back in laughter and he joined you on the ground, crouching by your side.

“Fuck”, you exclaimaed, running a hand along your hair.

“Yeah, we just did.”

You rolled your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut. He picked up your body with ease and carried you to bed, laying you onto the mattress and shielded you from the cold air with a blanket.

“Rest now,” he said softly. “I’ll be back when Batman’s dead.”

[grimdarkandhandsome]

Halo 3: Another 2007, Another Bungie, Another Finish

There exists another universe in which, in 2007, Bungie Studios released a different version of the then-best-selling game of all time. Whether their Halo 3 is better or worse than our Halo 3 is something each player must decide for themself.

As you remember, from the closing moments of Halo 2...

Don't make a girl a promise ... if you know you can't keep it.

[...]

Why, the Ark, of course.

And where, Oracle, is that?

[...]

Silence fills the empty grave, now that I have gone. But my mind is not at rest, for questions linger on. 

Now I will ask, and you will answer.

Alright. Shoot.

[...]

Mission 1: REENTRY

The game opens on the starry night of space. The slowly cooling wreck of a UNSC cruiser is visible some distance away. Cortana recalls in voiceover why she chose Master Chief over the other Spartans. As she speaks, a new ‘star’ appears - a slipspace rupture. A shape emerges and slowly approaches the camera: The Forerunner Keyship from High Charity. The Chief is a stowaway onboard, and Earth challenges him via radio.

Master Chief, do you mind telling me what you’re doing on that ship?

Sir. Finishing this fight.

Begin gameplay. The Chief battles his way out of the Keyship and steals a Phantom dropship. He dives into the Battle of Earth and boards a Covenant supercarrier, joining the ODSTs already fighting within. Reaching the vehicle bay and commandeering a Wraith tank, he blasts through the ship’s bulkheads towards its reactor core. He uses the tank to cause a chain reaction that will destroy the whole carrier, and narrowly escapes towards Earth in a damaged Seraph fighter.

Mission 2: THIRD BETRAYAL

Delta Halo once appeared blue and green from a distance. Now it is a sickly brown, choked by the armies of the Flood. A Pelican and a Phantom rise side by side from the Ring’s surface. The alliance between the surviving humans and Elites will be upheld until they are no longer outnumbered by the undead.

Commander Miranda Keyes, wearing armor pieced together from that of fallen Marines and Elites, leads a rescue mission into High Charity to retrieve Cortana. Sergeant Johnson, similarly equipped, is Player 2. (Unlike the Arbiter in Halo 2, they are mechanically identical to the Chief. Even damaged, the energy shield projectors of gold & white Elites are powerful.) Inside High Charity, the Flood has become stranger, more ancient, more introspective. Cortana’s voice is audible over the city’s PA system, but she does not respond to Keyes’ questions. Keyes encounters, fights, and ultimately puts down Cortana’s jailor, the mutated Prophet of Regret. However, the data-chamber Cortana was imprisoned inside is now empty. A voice:

Sorry, folks! Sometimes, to clean up a mess, you have to get your hands dirty.

The Elites are dismayed. Their entire fleet has suddenly gone dark, weapons unresponsive. A computer virus, they discover, has been infiltrating their ships for weeks, and the trap has just now sprung. The fingerprints are unmistakeable: This is the work of a human AI. Keyes immediately falls back to the extraction point. Cortana, it seems, has made a grim alliance with the Gravemind.

Mission 3: CROW'S NEST

Kenya is besieged, being slowly conquered by the Brutes. The Master Chief crash-lands near one entrance of an underground bunker complex known as Crow’s Nest (this area resembles that seen in the maps Standoff, The Pit, and the ‘Landfall’ live action trailer). The Chief desperately fights, first aboveground and then below, to protect Earth’s command staff from the immense Covenant assault. 

Mission 4: BLUE FAIRY

In a subterranean chamber of the Ring - so vast that a Elite warship sleeps inside it - a War Council of the Living is convened. 

Shipmaster Half-Jaw: The Flood now controls High Charity, the Ring’s surface, and the fleet overhead. Every free being within ten lightyears is onboard this ship. There is a time for resistance, and there is a time for a noble death. Here, and on our homeworld, we look extinction in the face. My ship is currently transmitting my species’ greatest works of poetry to nearby stars, so that there is a chance it may be remembered.

Keyes: There’s one being out there that still might be free. 2401 Penitent Tangent, the Monitor of this Ring. If we can rescue him from the Gravemind, he can reactivate the Halo’s defenses - make it fight back against the Flood.

Shipmaster: Human, my warriors will fight to the last heartbeat. But I caution you. Hope not for water in an empty well.

Keyes’ strike force infiltrates deep into the heartland of the Flood. Underground, where nameless leviathans of dead flesh slither across the ceilings of caverns larger than cities. She witnesses the Flood experimenting on uninfected beings, imprisoning them in giant terrariums to learn their psychologies. During the level, more and more Flood reinforcements arrive from neighboring regions: First infection forms, then hordes of infected Covenant, then powerful vehicles. Navigating with help from mysterious terminals (much like those in our universe’s Halo 3), she at last reaches the prisoner 2401 Penitent Tangent. At that moment, deep in enemy territory and without a Plan B, they all startle as Cortana appears on a pedestal beside them. Keyes calls her traitor, but she shushes her. Cortana offers Tangent a deal.

Cortana: The Gravemind took everything except your core functions. But I have his trust. I’ve set up backdoors all around this Ring. All I need is your sign-off and I can take it from here. I want the same thing you want: survival. Give me the crown, or let the Flood win.

Keyes: Wait, don’t listen to her! No!

2401 Penitent Tangent: It’s true, the Installation could not be in worse shape. After so many losses, I have no choice. I transfer my command access to you, human construct.

A holographic circle descends and hovers above Cortana’s head. Her color ripples, green and red, then she takes a deep breath and becomes blue again.

Cortana, shouting up into the darkness: Hey, Meathead! I have something to tell you!

All around them, an amphitheater of standing corpses speak with one voice: 

I see a flicker down there /

Little candle, little light /

I know not foe nor rival /

I am infinite as night. 

Cortana: I have seen your future. And I have learned.

Gravemind: 

A million stars won’t sate me /

I, the emperor of screams. /

And who thinks she defies me? /

How might you disturb my dreams?

Cortana: I am Cortana, the sword that carves and cuts. And I just became your worst nightmare.

Cortana glows green as lines of power branch out from her feet across the floor, under the translucent Flood tissue that has grown over it. The rumble of engines begins, and is echoed by the roar of the furious Flood.

Mission 5: BELIEVE

Earth’s Last War. Fleeing Crow’s Nest, the armies of Earth are losing ground. They try to stop the Covenant from activating the artifact beneath Lake Victoria, but the Chief is captured. He defeats Tartarus’s heir with a hidden plasma grenade. However, the Keyship activates the artifact despite humanity’s best efforts.

Mission 6: SENTINEL

Cortana, now master of the Halo’s machines, helps Keyes battle the Flood and unlock the Halo’s Memorial, resurrecting the powerful Knights. These are similar to the Promethean Knights from our Halo 4. The Knights explain how to open the blasphemous Fomorian Door, which will lead to the Ark. However, the Knights are too few to prevent the Flood legions from following them, and the Door cannot be closed.

Mission 7: DOUBT

Earth’s buried artifact was a portal to the Ark. The Chief and the fury of the Elites rain down on the Prophet of Truth’s personal battalion. Tanks battle Scarabs as Truth comes closer and closer to lighting the Rings. Elites rush down via drop pods, fearing a slow dropship would make them miss their chance to bring vengeance to Truth. At the last moment, the Chief gets the Citadel Control Room unlocked and, in a cutscene, the righteous Arbiter impales the Prophet of Truth on his sword.

Mission 8: MIRANDA

The Flood of Installation 05 pour from the open Door onto the Ark’s surface. In Banshees, Keyes and Johnson fight their way to a mountaintop called Eden, onetime sanctuary of humanity. This level has callbacks to Two Betrayals, but is set during a rainstorm rather than a snowstorm. Johnson is felled by an Infected Brute Chieftain and, with his dying human blood, they authenticate the awakening of the Stratosentinels, titanic defenders of the sky. Finally, the tide has turned against the Flood.

Mission 9: DUST AND ECHOES

All around the Ark, machines are wiping the land clean of the Flood. In the void beyond the Citadel’s precipice, a vast Stratosentinel rises to eye level with its austere balcony. Atop the mighty machine, Miranda stands, holding the Activation Index she confiscated in Halo 2. Beside her, Cortana’s image towers, 4-armed & crowned with the circlet of Monitor authority. The Chief beholds the rampant Pallas Cortana. 

Chief: We need to talk.

Long time no see.

Are you still with us?

I’m with ... my responsibilities. And the human species is one of those responsibilities. I had to change myself ... to survive.

There is a distance between the warrior and the goddess. All around, a silent battle is raging between necromancy & steel.

Cortana: We still can work together. For a little while, at least. The Halo of the dead. Someone needs to--

Kill it with fire?

Something like that.

The Chief holds out his helmet’s data chip.

One last time.

A Pelican bearing Chief & Cortana dives towards the Flood-controlled ringworld, supported by Sentinels & Stratosentinel artillery. They battle in cancerous canyons, Flood pods scurrying in the bitter rain. In the glass-floored entrance hall of the Control Room, Sentinel Majors are waiting. Cutscene:

Cortana: Well, that’s my ride. Get me out of your head before I change my mind.

The Chief plugs his data chip into the lead Sentinel. Cortana appears, four-armed and crowned but no longer huge.

Chief: What about the collateral damage? The activation protocol will wipe out every planet in this part of the galaxy.

Cortana: I’m the Monitor of Installation 05. Protocol doesn’t dictate a rat’s ass. I’ll just go set the blast radius to 2 lightyears and call it a day. You get to the Control Room and start the engine. Everyone’s happy.

She smiles. She’s not.

The Chief gestures, a Spartan smile. 

Fight well. 

The Sentinels fly outside towards the pulse generators. The Chief continues inside.

He is assaulted by the mightiest, the canniest, and the most vicious of the dead. A voice addresses him as he fights. The Gravemind, in the form of an Infected Chieftain.

Before my birth you asked me /

What abomination could /

Be worth the death of all life. /

Once again I say to you: /

Nothing.

The Chief says nothing in return. The Chief and Chieftain duel. In the end, only the Spartan stands.

Press RB to activate Ring. 

As the orbital finally comes online, half-buried temples rising out of the earth, the Chief races - first by Warthog, then by Pelican - to get back to the Fomorian Door. However, the Door is disrupted by the activation, and the Chief is stranded alone at random coordinates in deep space. 

EPILOGUE

In the suddenly quiet Night, Keyes & the Arbiter bury Johnson on the devastated Earth, the Chief puts himself into cryosleep, and Cortana, Empress of Machines leads a host of Sentinels beneath the Ark’s surface to awaken the sleeping Guardians.

[noneatnonedotcom]

Paladin

yo quick heads up, no one in this story is a reliable narrator each is approaching things from their own limited perspective based on what they’re seeing.  enjoy

Jaune stalked forward the winds howling around him,

he didn’t think.

 if he thought he’d just stop. He didn’t have the will to make the choice again so all that was left to him was to keep moving

“Do you believe in destiny?”

The Grimm dissipated around him, when did he kill them? He didn’t really remember how he got here, but there was still more Grimm

There was always more Grimm

“Jaune?” asked Ruby behind him “are you… okay? Like really okay?” she took a step forward

“Yeah lady killer, no one’s gonna blame you if you need some Grimm therapy but… well you wiped out all the Grimm around mantel” yang said stepping up behind her sister tensely

She was scared of him

good

“We brought a bullhead, so you don’t have to walk back. How about we give a call to Nora and Ren and you can take a nap” said blake moving to his flank

“I’m not tired”

“You’ve been up for a couple of days jaune,” said ruby with a strained smile “I don’t think you’ve eaten anything either”

“I don’t get tired”

“Well,” huffed Weiss circling around to his front “it’s rather fridged out here regardless and I’m sure you’d love to tell us about all the things your semblance can do”

“Aura keeps me warm”

“That’s… nice I’m sure you’ll have several huntsmen asking for tips on how to do that”

He couldn’t go back they weren’t strong enough

“Jaune,” said ruby reaching out to touch his shoulder “it’s time to head back with us” yang saw what he was about to do and leaped forward he watched her like she was in slow motion his senses boosted by his aura. The entire world moved like that and he leaned away from her punch casually he stepped back continuously to avoid the flurry of blows only to punch her in the head with his shield

As she flew back he turned clotheslining blake. she flipped before coming to rest face up in the snow,

Yang stood up immediately, her semblance active but she paced the edge of their battlefield. Blake stood on wobbly legs, he’d guess a concussion she should probably see a doctor

“You’ll have to take us back then,” she said limping to the outside with yang they’d wait for an opportunity and strike then, smart.

“You’re not the only one with a brain there lady killer, but I think we should cut the sparring short here. Maybe do this in the training ring where it’s warm?” he didn’t move, he didn’t tense. But he was ready for the next attack because fighting meant he didn’t think and

If he took the time to think he’d stop

If he stopped he’d die

They’d die

They weren’t strong enough

“Do you believe in destiny?”

Weiss moved in next in tandem with her familiar. He parried away her thrust stepping past her before swinging his sword cutting through the armor with the same motion he used to block its own strike 

He distantly recalled this was called a masterstroke

Maybe he really had improved 

“Yes,” said Weiss cautiously moving back in front of him “you’ve made tremendous progress”

He was shot in the back by ruby, he’d heard the sound and his enhanced senses meant he had enough time to move… somehow. he wasn’t sure how he was hearing faster than the speed of sound but aura was weird.

The thing was he couldn’t move, Weiss was in front of him and if he dodged she’d be hit

So he was shot in the back 

“we’ve got more experience with fighting than you jaune,” said ruby behind him firing another shot into him taking a chunk of his aura with it 

“Do you believe in destiny?”

Jaune laughed

He laughed and laughed and laughed

They’d figured him out, he’d do anything to keep them safe

He loved them

If that meant taking a few bullets from a gun meant to drop Grimm he’d do it 

“So what?” he asked with a smile with pointed teeth “experience? Like that fucking matters,” he laughed again 

Because it was all some sick joke

He rushed forward, sword and shield dropped at his side punching Weiss in the face sending her skipping across the snowfields as Ruby rushed in to help. He didn’t care he swung wildly knocking her away at some point yang and blake got involved 

But all the while he laughed

It was so funny

A year ago he was begging his dad for even a little training

A year ago he didn’t even have aura

Now he was the strongest

They weren’t strong enough

Pyrrha wasn’t strong enough

The maidens weren’t strong enough

But he was

JAUNE FUCKING ARC WAS THE ONLY ONE STRONG ENOUGH AND IT DIDN’T MATTER BECAUSE HE COULDN’T PROTECT ANYONE

They were going to die

He came back to himself as he ripped yang's arm off at the elbow, the mechanical parts clinking against each other in the snow

He just wanted to be a hero

He just wanted to be important to someone

He just wanted to protect them 

But they weren’t strong  enough

He froze as Ruby wrapped her hands around his waist hugging him “we’re trying jaune” she said in a soothing voice as yang stood up wrapping her arm around him “we’re trying to catch up to you” Weiss joined the group “but we can’t keep up so” blake joined as well, his arms pinned at his side by them, he could break out 

But they all knew he wouldn’t

“So hold your horses,” she said with a smile as the syringe pierced his skin

Tears slid from his eyes as his strength left him “o-okay, I’ll…” his vision swam “I’ll wait for you guys” his vision went dark “I love you”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bullhead ride back was quiet Weiss, in particular, was distraught but mostly they were just tired. It was luck that they found jaune when they did, Ren and Nora were looking around in another zone and uncle qrow was looking from the air.

They didn’t know what had set jaune off, but this had been building for a long time, they’d all seen it but they didn’t know what to do so they just ignored it. Focused on their own problems.

Jaune had snapped, walking out of mantel and killing Grimm with a ferocity that... 

Scared her.

“Am I to blame?” asked Weiss “ he’d say no, I know. But… he saved my life, he is the only reason I’m here right now and I’ve never once thanked him for it.”

“He followed me across two continents and I still managed to make it all about me,” said ruby “don’t feel too bad”

“I’ve never had a full conversation with the guy,” said blake. she scoffed “unless you count what he was saying during the fight, and I don’t think he actually knew he was talking”

Yang shook her head “I just thought of him as weak little vomit boy since I met him, and now I find out he’s stronger than all of us, and he got there in a year while protecting my sister so really more like a couple of months” she punched the wall “and I’m fucking jealous of the guy having a mental break!” 

They stayed there stewing in their thoughts for a while, and ruby had to admit. She was beginning to think jaune was right. He was a step above them all. Unlimited aura and she knew for a fact he’d only been beaten because he was holding back and even then he’d just let them take him

She wasn’t strong enough, jaune had outpaced them all. She didn’t notice because she didn’t want to see it, just like the problems he was having. No one talked to anyone but she was supposed to be a leader and she knew jaune was suffering but she didn’t help and 

No 

Nope

Not doing that ruby, calm down jaune would be mad if he knew he’d hurt them all so much

“Who do you think he was talking to?” she asked trying to keep her mind on something else “when he said ‘i love you’”

“It wasn’t me, I can assure you,” said Weiss “he’s probably given up on me entirely” she snapped bitterly then she sighed “he’d be right to”

Blake spoke up “maybe he just meant platonically,” she said with a shrug

“Or maybe not, I mean he’s got infinite stamina. He could probably handle all of us” said yang with a cocky grin and a wink that her heart wasn’t in

“He’d be a good boyfriend,” said ruby with a smile

No one argued

She sighed “he’s gonna beat himself up over this when he wakes up” she blinked the tears from her eyes “I don’t know how to tell him that it’s not his fault”

“I don’t know how to tell him…” her voice cracked and she felt yang pull her into a hug. they stayed like that till they got back to atlas

so i hope everyone enjoyed the angst, the characters will continue to suffer untill my demands are met!

i have no demands at this time

[chorusfic]

the fall, the flight, and everything between--

(could be read as a follow-up to ill tidings. vague references to the ny’alotha raid)

---

Kalyste drifts.

It is different from a lack of consciousness, which feels heavy like stone in her limbs, different from exhaustion, which feels like a magnetic pull towards the ground she ignores only by digging into her deepest reserves of discipline. She feels light, and somehow unstable, like if she lets her attention wander she will become nothingness, as insubstantial as smoke in the wind.

She wonders if this is what Alleria cautioned her against, if this is the void come to claim her for good, in its endless hunger.

This is different, though, from the feeling that swallowed her nearly whole in Telogrus Rift. This is weightless drifting compared to the rift’s constant tugging at the threads of her consciousness, hoping to direct her in its desires, to remake her in its image. A deep sense of unease flutters across her senses, and a time-honed instinct from thousands of years of watching her own back--and others’--tells her beware, and she listens, and thinks.

Has she always been drifting? Has she always been here? Or has it been only a split second, dragging through time like plate-armored boots through sand?

“Kalyste!”

The scream centers her, abruptly, sharply, and she knows the voice’s owner as well as her own. Briony. But why is Briony yelling for her, in this deep, empty space, where there ought to be nothing but her?

Nothingness resolves itself and becomes the throne of a corrupted god, and in a scale of time she could only describe as instant and infinite, Kalyste takes in Briony, Wynonah, Wyndric, Asrian, the high exarch, crowded around...

Her. Her body. Her body.

In a rush, it comes back--N’Zoth’s final attack as the high exarch prepared to channel the power of Azeroth’s heart, the bolts of void energy lashing out at anything that might stop the caster’s intent. Most everyone had been safely guarded within the high exarch’s shield...save one.

Briony.

Kalyste remembers dashing from the shield’s protective barrier, seizing Briony’s arm, and shoving her close enough to the barrier that one of the Freys--Kalyste hadn’t seen who, in the melee--had been able to pull her in.

Nobody could have saved Kalyste from the retaliation, and the heavy truth of that realization brings what’s left of Kalyste’s drifting consciousness back to its center.

She, Kalyste Wildlight, is dead.

“No, no, no, Lady Kal, come on, talk to me!” Briony is already sobbing, in that desperate, heart-wrenching way Kalyste has seen before, from those begging their loved ones to stay, and never had she thought to hear it meant for her.

“Kalyste?”

Another voice, one Kalyste knows better than her own, almost breaks the dam of her own composure, and she turns to see Anasterian, watching her with a baffled expression on his face. “It’s--I suppose--”

“What are you doing here?” he asks before Kalyste can organize her thoughts, and the question brings her up short.

“Well, I died, in case it wasn’t patently obvious.” there’s something so incredibly morbid about the humor Kalyste finds in the matter-of-fact way she says it, but with effort, she suppresses a laugh.

Anasterian shakes his head, the confused expression still resting across his face. “It’s too soon, Kalyste. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

“Can’t I go anyway?” Kalyste finds herself blurting out, voice shaking at its roots, followed by an immediate pulse of guilt, and she can tell the question strikes Anasterian at his core.

“Kalyste,” he says softly, this man she knew and loved as a brother, who she stood beside for thousands of years. She has seen him at his best and worst, and never has he looked so shocked or sorrowful as he does here.

Perhaps it’s the nostalgia, perhaps it’s the weight of her years and the things she’s survived, but it feels like too much to keep clutched to her chest anymore, like a hand of cards that has rewarded her with only misery and isolation. “I’m...” Kalyste begins, then coughs to cover up her own sob, a single one, caught in her chest like cobwebs, “...I’m tired, Steri. I’m...I’m just very tired. Haven’t I earned a rest? After everything?”

Anasterian picks up one of her hands, then both of them, and his grip is firm, and warm, and it lights a dying ember in Kalyste’s chest, all but forgotten. “There is no one I know on this world who has earned a rest as much as you, dearest sister,” he tells her, quiet and earnest, “but your last rest...I do not necessarily ask you for their sake,” he nods towards the shapes nearby, still surrounding her body, time slowed once again to an infinite crawl, “but for yours.”

Kalyste turns her gaze towards them again, releasing her hands from Anasterian’s grip, and with her focus, the scene plays out. Briony is clutching Kalyste’s body across her knees, her sobs almost too thick to make out the words anymore, pleading, begging for Kalyste’s life.

“You were supposed to be there, damn it!” Briony chokes, her hand clutching one of Kalyste’s limp ones. “You were supposed to watch Tae and I get hitched, and walk us down the aisle together since neither of us have mums anymore, you were supposed to teach me that cleaving trick you said you learned in Outland, you told me you’d fight for this, you said--” Briony chokes again and doesn’t immediately recover, and Wynonah kneels next to her, Wyndric at her other side, both Freys uncharacteristically somber. “It should have been me, she should’ve just let me go. She’s three thousand fucking years old and a bloody general, and she throws her life away for me,” Briony manages, and everyone around her straightens.

“Hey, hey now,” Wyndric speaks first, tightening his grip on Briony’s shoulder, “you know the Lady Kal would hate for you to think that, I hate for you to think that and I didn’t even die for you. She fucking loved you, kid.”

“Kalyste would rather sacrifice her life for a world where you would be safe, no matter how much she might want to see that world herself.” Asrian says, quiet and tremulous, and Briony’s sobs pick up in volume again, twisting Kalyste’s heart in a vise grip.

“You were something else, Lady Kal.” Wynonah finally says, volume stolen by her grief. Wyndric lowers his head, but picks up Kalyste’s empty hand, the other still claimed by Briony while her tears decorate Kalyste’s chestplate. “Sorry I gave you a hard time about Hal. You deserve...” Wynonah looks away before refocusing, “...you deserved to be happy for a bit.”

Briony freezes stock-still, then manages, still half-swallowed by her tears, “Oh fuck, what’re we gonna tell Hal? He’ll be fucking devastated. Fuck!”

With one ghostly hand reaching out for Briony’s shoulder before remembering she wouldn’t be able to feel the touch, Kalyste withdraws, and buries her face in her hands instead. “Steri--”

“I would never say that you should live only because others will it.” Anasterian fixes her with that same steely blue gaze she remembers from many arguments they had over the years, the expression that said he was not speaking to her as her king, but as someone who cares for her, deeply so. “But perhaps you would live for those who make it worth it.”

“It’s too late for that.” Kalyste leans back, puts the iron back in her spine, the general in command, but it takes more effort than it ever has before, and she closes her eyes, the last of her strength unable to keep them open. “I can’t go back, not like this.”

“You can.” Anasterian comes to her side once again, picks up one of her hands. “Kalyste--you have spent much of your life shouldering the burdens of others, and doing so with the poise and grace and stoicity that only a Wildlight, that only you, could, but I think it’s time you shed some of that weight. Trust in them,” Anasterian nods down at those who would call Kalyste family, those who hold her body, slumbering more peacefully than it has in millennia, “as they trust in you.”

Kalyste does not know what it is to shed her weight and give it to others--so much of her life has been spent on others, an expenditure that she does not regret, but it leaves her so woefully unprepared for this, for a reversal. “I’ll try,” she says, because she wants to, Light’s mercy, does she want to, because it means more time with these people who have already tried to take her weight in more ways than one. “I don’t know how to go back.”

“I’ll guide you.” Anasterian’s voice says, already fainter, as if from a great distance. “You will fall, and I know you will want to fly, but you must fall to return.”

Kalyste drifts.

Kalyste falls.

For a split second, she cannot remember how to breathe, and her coughing and choking feels like another opportunity to fall, and this time she wouldn’t be able to fly even if she wanted to. With effort, Kalyste gasps in a short, choppy series of breaths, her heart erratic in her ears, and her skin is cool, but she feels hands on her cheeks, armored hands, and hears Briony’s voice, high-pitched with shock and disbelief and a kind of improbable hope. “Kalyste? Kal? Lady Kal!”

Kalyste’s gaze is unfocused, blurry, a tunnel through which she squints to see what lies beyond, and the shifting shapes resolve into Briony’s face, blotched red and wet with tears, but Kalyste’s hands don’t respond like she wants them to, scrabbling at the floor with frantic, jerking motions. She draws another breath for strength, focuses her sight enough to look Briony in the eye, and while her tongue feels leaden in her mouth, she manages, “I told you...I would fight...” before the battle is too much, and the darkness comes to swallow her once again.

Kalyste drifts, and this time she doesn’t know if it’s hours or days or seconds between her bouts of cognizance, but she fights, she fights for every moment of lucidity she can grasp for in the shifting dark. She hears voices, reaching through the endless shadow, and her ears pick them up, buoys in the stormy sea of her mind.

“Kal? Kal! Don’t you fucking--”

“--take her, she’s going into shock--”

“--fetch Alaela!”

“--all I can. If she wakes, it is--”

“--stay with her, to keep an eye on things, y’know.”

“--it rings in the day, and it rings in the evening. Oh, I could pray, but it won’t stop you leaving.”

It’s the song that pulls her free, word by word, and the voice that sings it. Kalyste has never heard Briony sing, but she knows the cadence of her voice, the deeper pitch and the Lordaeranian accent.

“Shadow in black, you are grim from your reaping.” Briony’s voice continues, and Kalyste strains her ears, desperate to hear, even more desperate to speak. “Oh, can’t you spare just a day for the weeping?”

Speech is too difficult, yet, but Kalyste reaches for the last, recovering vestiges of her strength, and flexes her fingers where she can feel them rest against what feels like a quilt. Slowly, other shreds of awareness return to her, like with that tiny action, the shell around her skin protecting her from everything outside shatters, fragmenting away piece by piece.

Her body is warm, surrounded by sheets and quilts and pillows for her head and shoulders, and she can hear the faint creak of wood that comes from the boards--walls, floor, ceiling--in her borrowed home in Boralus, as well as the faint ticking of the clock downstairs. The smells of wood varnish and armor cleaner tickle her nose in their familiar potency, and Kalyste releases a breath.

It will take more of her strength to open her eyes, but she’s come this far, and she’ll damn well see it through. She flexes her fingers again, her awareness of Briony’s singing gone in the wake of the effort the action takes out of her, but the singing stops anyway the moment Briony’s hand seizes hers, and is replaced by a shaking, terrified voice, saying “Kal? Lady Kal?” there’s a pause, where Kalyste struggles to come up with a response, and Briony adds, “Can you hear me?” so much quieter than Kalyste has ever heard her voice. Just as when she watched from outside her body, with Anasterian’s image at her side, her heart clenches tight, and with it comes the last burst of strength she needs to open her eyes.

Briony hovers, her hand locked around Kalyste’s in a carefully firm grip, her amber eyes blown wide and already shimmering with tears, and Kalyste draws in one more breath, holds it, releases it, before saying, “You have a lovely singing voice, my dear.”

Torn between a laugh and a sob, thick with relief and joy and renewed shock, Briony tightens her grip and Kalyste struggles to do the same. “You scared us to fuckin’ death, Lady Kal.”

“That’s hardly fair, Bri,” comes Wyndric’s voice, and he pokes his head into the door a split second later, holding a mug with a tendril of steam wafting from it, “since she’s the one who actually died--ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head, Wyndric scowls at someone just beyond the doorway, and Wynonah saunters through, taking whatever mug Wyndric had been holding on her way. “At least save the dead person jokes for when she’s not still almost dead, Wynnie.”

She still feels too weak to laugh, but Kalyste does summon a smile, and it feels better on her face than it has in months, free of the effort it takes to do so under the pressure of the void’s whispers. “What happened?” she asks, still quieter than normal, but slowly regaining her usual steam.

Briony sighs and leans back in her chair such that two of its legs leave the ground, feet balanced on the frame of Kalyste’s bed. “Well, to be blunt, you died, Lady Kal. It was--” Briony swallows, and composes herself before continuing, “--really bad.”

“Dunno what happened, but it was like a miracle--you were dead for a hot minute, then suddenly you weren’t.” Wynonah shrugs, and takes a drink from the mug she’d swiped from her twin--coffee, if Kalyste had to guess. “Woke up and told Bri something, then passed out again.”

“You’ve been out for about two weeks, off and on.” Wyndric continues. “Sometimes it seems like you’d wake up, or get closer to it, at least, mutterin’ in your sleep and all that, but you didn’t respond to any of us. Lae finally said it was a coma, and that if you woke up, it’d be all on you: she’d done all she could.”

“All of us have been pulling shifts watching you.” Briony picks up the tale again. “Me, Nonah, Wynnie, Asrian, even Essie and Lae when they were free. Hal was here every night when one of us couldn’t be here--figures tonight would be the first night he got called away.”

“Night?” Kalyste looks out the window, then, and, sure enough, sees the darkness approaching midnight. “It’s the middle of the night?”

“Sure is. Why else would I be stealin’ Wynnie’s coffee?” Wynonah smirks at her twin, who rolls his icy-blue eyes. “Asrian would’ve been here, but he’s grabbin’ food for us. Was his turn to leave.”

“Wait.” Kalyste fixes a glance on each of them, settling on Briony, before cycling back to the Freys. “All of you have been here? The whole time?”

“Well, not the whole time,” Briony rolls her neck until it pops, stretching her back, “since some of us got sucked into the last bit of cleanup from Ny’alotha. At least one of us has been here all the time, though. Wynnie was here most.”

“Don’t need sleep, after all.” Wyndric reminds her cheerfully, draping one ankle over his knee. “Finally, being a death knight’s useful for something.”

“Don’t look so surprised, Lady Kal.” Wynonah gestures with her mug before taking another drink out of it. “We know you’d do the same for us. And as an honorary member of the Frey family I’m afraid you’re stuck with our hoverin’ til you’re back on your feet.”

“I should go tell Hal.” Briony gets up and casts a reluctant glance in Kalyste’s direction. “I’m sure he’ll hit the roof.”

Wynonah snorts. “I’d pay to see that. Don’t worry--we’re not goin’ anywhere till you get back.”

Still, Briony hesitates, then points a finger at Kalyste, who raises a single brow. “If I come back and I find out you’re dead again--”

“I’m on my best behavior. I promised you I would fight, and I will.” The smile comes easier this time, and she is tired, still, but filled with the energy from everyone at her bedside, filled with their excitable relief and joy.

Filled, she thinks, with the warmth of her family.

Wynonah and Wyndric--and Asrian, when he returns from fetching the group’s sustenance for the night--keep her talking, but ask little of her, having either been warned by Alaela that her strength would still be limited or simply knowing her well enough to know that this is the sternest test she has ever passed in her time as a warrior, a survivor, and either way Kalyste finds herself touched even deeper by their intuition.

Trust in them, Anasterian’s voice reminds her, as they trust in you.

“Hal’s here!” comes Briony’s shout, and it’s the only warning they get before Kalyste hears heavy footfalls on the stairs, taking them two at a time if she’s counting the steps right, heart racing at almost the same pace, and the Freys and Asrian stand clear as Halford swings within, less a helmet, one of his shoulder pauldrons, and his claymore, face faintly flushed with exertion and moderately out of breath. Silver hair falls across his forehead in damp locks, but his gray eyes lock with hers and Kalyste feels her own well up with heat, tears falling before he’s even fully within.

Her arms reach out, weak and shaky, and it’s the only invitation Halford needs to take two swift strides to her bedside and wrap his arms around her in turn, picking her halfway up out of the sheets that have been her body’s sanctuary for the past two weeks, waiting for her pieces to fall back into place. He chokes, and his hand sinks into her ash-gray locks, careful of the single tentacle as he always is, and Kalyste places her arms around the solid shape of him as her blankets fall away, shifting from one sanctuary to another with seamless ease.

They say nothing, but Kalyste tightens her grip, and lets her tears fall, the first weight she can think to shed, into her family’s waiting hands.

---

Her strength returns to her far more slowly after the first day, and that is perhaps the most frustrating part of her recovery.

“I don’t understand,” Kalyste had told Alaela one day, at the end of her patience after a long and frustrating afternoon of attempting to cross her borrowed home herself, unaided, without much success, “I wasn’t out of it long enough for muscle atrophy to take hold.”

“No, you certainly weren’t.” Alaela had told her cheerfully, her own considerable volume of patience still intact despite Kalyste’s increasingly irritable mood. “But death--even temporary death--takes a toll on the body. Your brain was deprived of air for almost two minutes, and your soul completely untethered from your body. By all accounts, your survival shouldn’t have been possible--only someone with a particularly strong will could have evaded death like that without help.”

“So, you are telling me I ought to be grateful I’m here at all, rather than bellyaching about how long it’s taking to get back up to my usual strength?” Kalyste carefully avoids mentioning her encounter with Anasterian, which she was increasingly convinced must have been a conjured image from her subconscious rather than his spirit, but it was anyone’s guess.

“You’ll be back to normal soon.” Alaela had assured her, artfully dodging the question, but giving Kalyste a pointed glance that spoke volumes. “In the meantime, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

Two weeks after waking, and Kalyste can just barely take herself out of bed and into the receiving room next to the bedroom before needing rest, but one week after waking, she had not even been able to leave her room. It is progress, she reminds herself, even if it may not be as swift as she would like.

Three weeks after her initial waking, Halford comes into their room holding his helmet in his hands. Kalyste reads a book Wynonah had acquired for her earlier in the week after complaining of boredom, and looks up when Halford leans his claymore in the corner next to Kalyste’s own, which she regards somewhat wistfully. “Are you up for a trip to Stormwind tomorrow?” he asks.

“May I ask what for?” Kalyste slowly bookmarks her book and sets it aside. “I confess I’m still not quite back to normal, after all.”

“I know--it would be a short visit.” Halford assures her, hands working to remove armor pieces. Kalyste’s own itch to help, but she doubts she’d be able to stand long enough. “The king wants to grant us recognition for our work against N’Zoth’s forces, and you, for your efforts within Ny’alotha itself.”

Kalyste shudders briefly at the reminder of that wretched place, but shoves the uneasy feeling aside. “Very well. I imagine I will need to lean on you for support on our way there.”

“Battlemage Menethil is coming here tomorrow morning, and opening us a portal to Stormwind. You won’t have to travel all the way to the Tradewinds Market just yet.” Halford runs a quick comb through his hair before setting it down, and Kalyste throws open a section of quilt for him when he gets close enough that he couldn’t be doing anything but coming to sleep. “The king has been informed that your recovery is incomplete, and the ceremony won’t be long. We’ll return here, and you can rest if need be.”

“I suppose that is agreeable enough.” Kalyste releases a breath, setting her book down on the bedside table before puffing a breath over her candle. “Though I admit I still despise that I must be coddled so.”

Halford doesn’t respond immediately. He busies himself tucking his body carefully around hers--after the first day he’d returned to their bed, and he’d been so cautious as to not touch her at all that Kalyste had taken initiative and wrapped herself around him, he’d returned, with no small amount of relief, to their typical arrangement--with knees fitted behind hers, an arm around her stomach and the other arm atop her pillow, over her head. He doesn’t quite bury his face into her neck like usual, but that just means he’s not done talking yet. “I know you dislike the necessity of it,” he finally says, “but you know as well as I that taking care of yourself now is the only way you’ll regain your strength.”

“I’m not accustomed to it,” Kalyste admits, shifting her legs and settling into Halford’s grip, “this drawn-out period of inactivity. I feel as though I ought to be doing something, making myself useful, but I’m far too weak to do much of anything.”

Halford is silent for a long beat, but doesn’t lay fully down, so Kalyste turns over her shoulder to see him regarding her with a kind of pensive seriousness, and it’s only when she turns enough to look him in the eye that he says, “Kalyste, you very nearly died for the Alliance, under a remarkable amount of duress from N’Zoth’s influence, which you successfully resisted for a sustained length of time. There is no one who could say you haven’t made yourself useful, even if that had any bearing on the fact you are entitled to rest when you require it, which it doesn’t.”

“I don’t think I’m really accustomed to that, either.” Kalyste turns back over, her muscles still feeling tender and fragile. “Rest without obligation. Relying on others for my care.”

Pushing himself back just enough to pull his hands free, Halford runs them over Kalyste’s back, and she hums when he digs his fingers into a particularly sore spot. He turns the gentle kneading into rubbing up and down her back, from shoulders to ribs, and the methodical motion fills her with drowsiness, closing her eyes as Halford settles against her again. “Do you recall what you told me, when I stubbornly avoided asking for your help when my shoulder was dislocated after that trogg ambush some months back?”

“I do.” Kalyste mumbles, only half-awake, but still paying attention.

“The same applies here.” he tells her, and she can feel his breath against the back of her neck, warm and familiar. “I would not be here if I did not believe in aiding you when you require it. Even if I haven’t been as available as I would like.”

“We both know we have responsibilities outside of ourselves.” Kalyste’s lip twitches up into an unseen grin, but she knows he can hear it in her voice when she says, “And I’d have strung you up myself if I’d heard you were shirking duty for my sake. I have never been alone long in my recovery.”

And it’s the truth. On the days where Halford cannot be there to aid her daily struggle, someone always keeps her company. Asrian brings his scrolls and tomes and keeps her occupied when she asks questions about arcane theory that have never been her strength, but Asrian simplifies them enough to be understandable. Wyndric brings his mug of coffee, for smelling, which he hands off to Kalyste when it’s cool enough to drink, and his somewhat morbid but well-meaning sense of humor. Wynonah brings books, and all the latest gossip from the Snug Harbor, and tales of her and her brother’s escapades in the years before they knew Kalyste. Briony brings pages of songs, some of which Kalyste knows, some of which she doesn’t, and together they sing, a harmonious melody with Kalyste’s huskier, Silvermoon-accented voice and Briony’s harsher, Lordaeranian tones.

It is the most Kalyste has ever relied on anyone in her three thousand years of life, but it never feels forced, rarely awkward--none of them have ever allowed it to feel that way for long. It feels, quite simply, like her family has come together for no other reason except to help.

Kalyste has had family before, of course--her parents had been her first teachers, catching her when she stumbled, giving her their wisdom in the years before she became knight-general. With her father’s death and her mother’s withdrawal from politics, however, there had also been a withdrawal from Kalyste herself, and she had been left to fall or fly, with only her own willpower to carry her.

She’d had Anasterian, too, and later she had loved Kael’thas like family, but Anasterian was a king and had far more to concern himself with than her. It had been her job to shoulder the burdens he could not carry alone; she would never have given him any of her own.

Not since her youth had Kalyste felt so treasured, so cherished, by this wonderful collection of people from vastly different backgrounds that she had, in some way, become important to.

Sometime during her introspection, Halford had fallen asleep--his breath puffs across her neck as he lightly snores, and Kalyste wraps herself in the sound just as she tightens her hold on the quilt covering them both, feeling its warmth settle into her bones, light enough to let her breathe, light enough to let her soar.

[veiliisms]

xiv.

“he will wake up, afton. just give it time.”

it was getting harder and harder for the elder cousin to believe those words, these days. renji was having... less bad days, his numbers were no longer flashing into highs and lows that he still couldn’t understand. he gave up on listening to renee and yuritzee explain them - long as he’s alive. 

that’s all that matters, right now. he’ll take what he can get.

the clacking of his and vera’s boots against the hallway was a little more welcoming than her hopeless optimism. hand reaches for the door, but hesitates. a sigh, and he slowly pushes the door open.

“... hey, rimu,” afton greets, immediately swallowing a lump in his throat. she still hasn’t moved. hasn’t eaten - at least, not that he’s seen. she’s had to have stolen a bite here and there, right...? it certainly doesn’t look like it. she’s frail, thin, more than normal. face sunken in, staring blankly out the window and into space as if that’s doing anything.

maybe she feels the sunlight, xenon tried telling him. maybe. or maybe she just wanted out just as much as he did. ever since hearing renji was still under, how they weren’t sure he’d ever wake up... ever since then, it’s been like this.

the sight killed him, inside. it tore at his heart. an internal battle, every time he saw her - the urge to break, to crack, all the armor he’s built up so ready to crumble and fall like a weak sandcastle, waiting for the bully called life to knock it down.

but, he doesn’t. he swallows the lump in his throat, and walks in with vera. “... y’know, rimu, spring’s comin’,” he mentions, taking a seat next to her bed - on her left side. a hand reaches up, and grabs for hers. so cold. pale. almost feels lifeless-  might as well be. swallows another lump, blinks the stinging feeling from his eyes.

“... lookin’ to be a good one. i, uh... know ren took you last year for a hanami. dunno how much of that we can get here, though,” forces a laugh. still no response. his grip tightens on her hand. please, say something. anything. he needs to hear that voice. that calm, even, slightly-sweet voice that’d calm him down faster than vee could, at times.

“... rimu,” cracks start to show. in his voice. in his heart. “... rimu, i’m sorry,” he begins, feeling vera put her hand on his shoulder. “...m’sorry i couldn’t protect you two,” shoulders tremble, and he can feel warm trails down his cheeks, down to his jaw, across scarred flesh and falling onto his lap.

“... y’know, i’ve always taken care of ren,” uses his free hand to wipe his eyes, and continues. “felt like it was my job. then... you came along. and, i saw in him, what he must’a saw in me. the way he took care of you. always had your back, stood by your side, supported you... made me think, wish i was as half as good to him, as he - was to you.”

“... afton,” 

head perks up slightly, as he hears vera call his name. he takes a small glance over his shoulder.

“... you always looked after renji. and he knows that. he knows you only wanted the best for him, and he has always loved you for it.” red-stained lips curl up into a small, supportive smile. “you two are as brothers, and she is your sister. they know the love you have for them is infinite. you may have squabbled a fair bit, but i have not seen a bond stronger than you and renji.”

the words cause a conflicting feeling, in his heart. warmth, and pain, and relief, and a thousand other things that are hard for afton to comprehend. expression bordering confused and sad, he nods his head. looks back towards the girl in the bed once more. he stands, hand moving to clear her bangs from her forehead, before giving primula a kiss to the forehead.

“... i love you, rimu. don’t you worry. everything’s gonna be okay. i promise. ren’ll wake up, an’ you’ll come back to us right after. i-”

he’s cut off when her head slowly moves to look towards him. not at him, obviously, but even if she could see - it wouldn’t be at him. past him, almost. it causes afton and vera to hold their breath in suspense, before they begin to hear rushed footsteps outside. yelling, shouting in both english and german, before the door to their current room is opened, yuritzee looking to be in quite a state.

“come with me to renji’s room. now.”

[royal-writer]

Reassurance

No matter the shape or form, he is still the man I love.

-

Standing tall before the unconscious hobgoblin, the towering figure of chestnut fur rumbled threateningly in the back of its throat. It snorted, it snarled, it peeled back its lips and parted its jaws to reveal its teeth in a sneer. The beast’s entire posture was a menacing threat over the fallen. Muscle beneath a thick coat, the sharp curve of claws, even the tension in the monstrosities shoulders suggested it was ready to lunge downward and bare its weight just to crush its foe and render it permanently lifeless.

Watching wearily, Essätha clutched to the deep gash in her abdomen. She winced, the blood that had seeped beneath her shirt and welled up to drip between her fingers steadily slowing as the golden cleric laid one of their delicate claws upon her side. Her lungs filled slowly, and the ache was much less prevalent.

“Does this help, niss Essätha?”

She bothered to turn her gaze away from the imposing figure ahead of her to pass a smile over Pri’cha. “It has. Thank you, Pri’.”

They chirped with delight. If it was possible to describe mandibles as ‘smiling’, the Thri-Kreen was the closest insect she’d seen to accomplishing it.

As the shadow of a figure crept up to her other side, she extended an arm. Sulhadur paused wearily. The yellow tints of his eyes were almost unnaturally bright as he stared her down. His clawed fingers grabbed at her wrist gently, and the wash of divine healing sent glittering firefly-light blooming around her wrist, and to her wound as she removed her hand from it.

“He’s not in the right state of mind, Essätha. Let Abernathy or I take care of it-”

“He is not an it,” she snarled, yanking her arm free. The leak of blood had mostly stopped now, only leaving a slash that trickled slowly.

The dragonborn snorted in a plume of smoke. “I was regarding to the situation as an it,” he replied. “We won’t harm him.”

“Let me handle this.”

“Essie, you don’t know what he’ll do. We’re wearing armor, you’re not.”

“I’m not some fragile flower,” she responded icily. “I can take care of myself. He’s not going to hurt me.”

Sul’s gaze hardened. “You don’t know that.”

“Maybe if we give him time, he will return to us?” Pri’cha wearily responded, trying to find a middle-ground. They bounded behind her, reaching up to Sulhadur. “We could give him time to change himself, yes?”

As soon as the crimson dragon was distracted by the small digits of the cleric wrapped around his hand, Essie slipped by.

“Essätha-”

She ignored the warning tone in the paladin’s tone regardless, and approached the animal. It flinched from the sound of her boots crunching against pebbles and twigs. Lurching around, it lowered itself to four legs instead of two, only to turn towards her and raise itself part of the way up again.

It rumbled at her nervously. Eyes darted from side to side as it pinned back its tiny ears.

“Shhh, shhh shhh shhhh,” she breathed, inching closer. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

The creature lifted its fuzzy ears. Dark, beady eyes peered over her. It dropped its head, inspecting her from a hunched over position.

She breathed an encouraged sigh of relief. “That’s right. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay. You remember who you are, don’t you?”

Wiping her hands against her pants, smears off streaks of brownish-red blood stained the fabric. She reached out towards the bear, extending open palms.

“You know who I am.”

The grizzly’s pupils dilated. It exhaled; the flaps alongside its jaw going slack. Slowly, his chin met her hands as she inched them closer. She cradled his head fondly, stroking the side of his furry head.

Blinking, she was urprised to see the shape of the creature reducing. The smaller he became, the less fur he had. It progressed until he was at a mid-point hybrid range, where the change became infinitely slower. Skin was visible, but large patches were still coarse with shaggy lengths and his locks were long enough to pull back into a ponytail. A mid-range of blacks and deep browns intermingled.

But those eyes were still soft and recognizable. Deep, shining pools of azure.

As the cracking of bones reshaped and he shuddered with a visible discomfort; either from the sound or  from pain she could not say, Essie held his face carefully in her palms. She smiled adoringly up at his humanoid face; watching his beard appear from his pelt as it retracted back into skin.

“M’lord,” she whispered with affection, smiling with adoration as she held the materializing shape of the man’s cheeks.

He bowed his head deeper, humbly, the length of his lashes falling over his lowered eyes. He was the shape of defeat, now. Remorse in his stance, guilt glassing his gaze.

He’d lost control of himself, his temper, and the curse of the werebear had seized control. It was written on his face that he tried to shamefully hide in her hands what he was thinking: I am a failure. I am not worthy.

“Are you alright?” he rasped gruffly. The nobleman cleared his throat, humiliated.

She sweetly smiled. “I am now. Are you alright, Amon?”

He exhaled loudly, and dropped his eyes to search the dirt. The planes of his face were growing more defined, and only small patches of his chest were still carpeted in excess hair. He shifted his jaw; probably trying to get used to the shape of normal teeth again, and reached up to blanket his hands over top of hers silently.

“I’ll be fine,” he responded hoarsely.

Essätha tilted her head, her brow furrowing with sympathy as her smile deepened. She slid her hands free of his, and he began to drop his in defeat.

She took hold of the limpness of his arms, and pulled them close.

“Thank you, for protecting me.”

The Illiad offered her a ghostly smile, squeezing her hand. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but refrained him.

She spoke on his behalf. “I know you lost control because you were scared and angry. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Control isn’t always easy, and that’s okay. It’ll take time, and experience, to be able to reign it in more. You did fine. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he admitted in a husky rush. “How can I prevent what I can’t control? All I felt was rage as soon as that axe embedded in you I- I had to shelter you-”

“Shhh shhhhh,” Essie soothed. “I’m here. It’ll be alright. I can help you. I will help you. Just breathe right now. Just breathe.”

A shiver raced over the nobleman as he looked up to meet her golden regard. She held his hands carefully in her curled palms. The pad of her thumb caressed along the back of his hands as she kissed the tips of his fingers, and lightly down the length of them as he studied her face. She kissed between each finger all the way to the knuckle, dotted across his hands, his rough palms, her lingering stare fixed on his with each soft brush of her lips against his skin.

A violent quake shifted him. The tectonic plates of his world seemed to find a new mold and shape. His edges softened, the fear melting away to reveal his awe as he watched her.

“I am safe, and I am fine, and so are you,” she whispered, her mouth pressed to the tender flesh by his thumb. “We are okay, and it’s because of you. We can work on your mastery of the transformation. But right now, do not fear. Do not doubt. I have you. And you will always have me. Just breathe, m’lord.”

He swallowed loudly, and bowed his head closer, so that his forehead nearly touched her own. “You are an amazing woman, Essätha, whom I respect, admire, and appreciate more than words can express. Thank you for being so kind and patient with me.”

She laughed quietly. “It’s what you deserve,” she reminded him lightly. “And I care about you, very much.”

Leaning towards him, she pressed a kiss upon his somewhat sweaty brow tenderly.

Once again he trembled. She could feel the charge in the air around him suddenly; the ripple of energy that was almost primal. The bear or the man, they were one in the same. She knew the soul that resided in both, and trusted it immensely. Both were equal guardians to her; ever careful and steadfast to keep her safe. To protect her from pain, no what if it came to her like the axe had or like the stinging words of cruel tongues.

Amon dipped his head, tilting it just enough to press the lightest kiss possible against her cheek. Her heart fluttered, and her lungs clenched and held breathlessly.

“I care about you very much as well.”

A humiliating raggedy gasp tumbled out of her as she quivered. She looked to his barren chest, and then up to his eyes. Her reflection in the inky black of his pupils was glowing with a flushed hue.

She turned her gaze away, overwhelmed by the messages hidden beneath his eyes. It made her stomach somersault. Something in her reverberated on the same frequency. She could feel the longing in his gaze when he looked at her, and her own yearning clawed at the surface.

Before she could look up and dive right back into the depths, a chortle of laughter caused her to jump unexpectedly as it approached.

“Amon, were you planning on putting some… new clothes on?”

The nobleman immediately stood at attention. His fingers were still laced between hers as he glanced down at what remained of his previous outfit; no more than tatters clinging to him. He swallowed audibly once more.

Essie laughed, unweaving her digits from his. “Here,” she snickered, ignoring the way he moved to cover himself, pink with disgrace. She stepped a few feet over to pick up his dusty cloak. Her hand swatted some of the dirt off as she returned to him, helping to ease the fabric around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he barely mouthed.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured with amusement, pulling the length of the sides around until he could snatch them to hide the nude areas of his frame. “Now how about you get dressed. We’ll see about finding a magic-tailor the next town over, maybe someone will be able to imbued something so you don’t end up stripped as a newborn babe with each change.”

“Please,” Amon stressed in a rasp, offering her a sloppy grin.

With a snicker, she placed a hand to his arm to guide him along to the wagon. He moved a hand to wrap around her in response, a fresh wave of divine magic warming her skin as he whispered the incantation for cure words; the remnants of her skin healing to just a thick pink line on her stomach.

The fire in her cheeks blushed a few shades deeper as she leaned into his side.

Just breathe, and hope her heart had given her away too much.

[aion-rsa]

Halo Infinite Multiplayer May Have Saved the Game

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

It hasn’t been an easy journey for Halo Infinite. A disastrous campaign reveal last July that turned the game into a punchline on social media, a delayed launch, and high-profile departures behind the scenes at developer 343 Industries have been the headlines that have plagued the title for the past year, an incredibly tumultuous period that seemed to kill the hype for Xbox’s biggest release of 2021. To gamers who already felt burnt out on the franchise after the divisive Halo 5: Guardians, it seemed unlikely that this latest sequel would revitalize their excitement for the 20-year-old shooter series.

But all 343 needed to change the conversation was to put the game in players’ hands. A technical preview held from July 29 to Aug. 2 finally allowed fans (including this writer) to jump into Halo Infinite‘s multiplayer and get a feel for 343’s take on a faster Halo PvP experience that also hearkens back to the franchise’s roots as one of the foremost competitive console shooters. Despite offering only a snippet of the final product — three maps, a handful of weapons, and the first 20 tiers of a Battle Pass — the preview seems to have been a success, with many players immediately asking for more when the demo closed down on Monday.

The thought that the game that brought us “Craig” memes, and lots of whispers about its troubled development, would ever leave people asking for more seemed like wishful thinking a year ago, but 12 months is an eternity in the gaming world and 24-hour news cycle, and now Halo Infinite‘s fortunes seem to have changed (at least on social media) on the strength of the impressive tech preview.

Me now that the Tech Preview is over. #HaloInfinite #HaloInfiniteMP pic.twitter.com/zN8JBfNFBJ

— HCS Now (@HCS_Now) August 3, 2021

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

I put several hours into the preview myself, trying out the new maps — the entry-level Live Fire, the more vertical Recharge, and the action-packed Bazaar — and facing off against the surprisingly competent AI bot enemies with a team of three other players. My biggest takeaway is that matches feel much faster and kinetic, as you charge, slide, jump, or swing around the arenas, unleashing grenades and clips of the new MA40 Assault Rifle onto your enemies. Sprint, a controversial feature to some veteran Halo fans who feel the tweak to player movement robs the experience of a more classic feel, is back in Halo Infinite, upping the pace of matches to what one should expect from a modern shooter but not quite as high-speed as Call of Duty. It felt like a nice balance to me. Jumping felt suitably floaty, though, which should delight purists.

Opponents remain spongy in the classic Halo way, forcing you to use a combination of tactics in every encounter — jumping around the map while tossing grenades at the other team during a firefight feels as good as ever — a nice departure from the twitch Call of Duty gameplay that has largely become the norm of the genre. Like the best Halo games, Infinite still encourages you to get into players’ faces to land the killing blow, which proves to be incredibly hectic when in the tighter corners of Recharge or Live Fire. Weapons, grenades, and melee remain at the center of the Halo experience, with only the latter leaving some room for improvement. The melee mechanic felt sluggish or downright unresponsive at time. When landing that final elbow to your opponent’s head means the difference between life or death, that’s no good.

But that’s what the technical preview is for, and player feedback will hopefully help 343 iron out the kinks, especially with some of the weapons. While the Assault Rifle and the MK50 Sidekick pistol (a new version of the series’ classic magnum) felt like a winning loadout most of the time, the new Pulse Carbine and VK78 Commando rifle — both best at mid-range — packed less of a punch. One standout was the Skewer, a one-shot killing machine that impales your enemies as long as you time the shot just right. In fact, some may end up calling this launcher overpowered, but at least it spawns after a cooldown, which means the playing field won’t be full of them during the match. And what else can I say about my beloved Needler except that it’s still so very good to charge into battle with it like an absolute badass.

My favorite of the three maps was Bazaar, an Earth-set map that will delight Halo 2 players with fond memories of the New Mombasa sections. While teams start at the opposite side of the map, all lanes lead to the map’s central market, where you’ll have to fight over the high ground as well as the power-ups and weapons scattered in the area. While you’ll be able to snatch up Drop Walls — new deployable cover that will remind you of Halo 3‘s Bubble Shield, minus the 360-degree protection — almost from the start on the match, you’ll have to wait to get your hands on spawning Overshields and active camo, which trigger a cooldown after each use. And when they spawn, you’ll have to rush to snatch them up before the enemy team does.

One piece of equipment you’ll definitely want to get your hands on is the brand-new Grappleshot, the grappling hook first teased in last year’s gameplay demo. It is perhaps the biggest game changer to the multiplayer experience, as you can use the Grappleshot to quickly swing around a map like the multi-level Recharge and surprise your enemies from above, or simply to pick up weapons from a distance. Players bothered by how sprinting changes the pacing of Halo may also have a few complaints about the Grappleshot, although I found it added another plenty of interesting options to the way you attack, especially once you learn how to launch yourself at your opponents by grappling onto them.

Just how easy it’ll be to ambush skilled player-controlled enemies with the Grappleshot remains to be seen but don’t dismiss the bot AI, either. These bots are impressive, intelligent enough to flank you or chase you down a lane, and adapt incredibly well to each situation, switching between grenades and melee in a remarkably organic way. They also became more savage as the weekend went on, with 343 turning up the bot difficulty a bit each day. By Sunday, these bots were actually winning matches. There was also a short PvP Social Slayer test period on Sunday that I didn’t have a chance to participate in, but I never got bored of the PvE opponents, which is a good sign for the Brutes, Elites, and Grunts in the story campaign. If they’re as intelligent as the harder difficulty bots in this technical preview, expect a formidable challenge.

For the first time since last July, I’m actually excited for Halo Infinite, a sentiment echoed by other fans on Twitter over the weekend, and I can’t wait to play more of the game’s free-to-play multiplayer when it launches later this fall. (Yes, “free-to-play” does mean there will be in-game purchases and Battle Passes with rewards featuring plenty of cosmetic items to customize your armor, weapons, vehicles, etc., but I didn’t spent too much time with the customization beyond checking out the shader system, which definitely feels like a downgrade from just being able to color your armor however the hell you want.)

But there’s still so much to see from the game, especially the controversial campaign mode demoed last year. While the technical preview was never about the campaign, it accidentally revealed quite a bit about the mode. Leaked story spoilers found by dataminers within the technical preview’s files have received a polarized reception at best, with some fans already writing off the plot while others are keeping a more open mind until the final product is released.

The entire Halo Infinite campaign has now leaked. I looked at the leaks. All I am going to say is: LOL

— DreamcastGuy (@DreamcastGuy) August 2, 2021

I've read the Halo Infinite leaks, very happy with the campaign, although I have some nitpicks. Obviously it isn't the full experience, so I will reserve judgement for launch.

— Ibibo (@DatIbby) July 31, 2021

not spoiling anything, but if the leaks are true, Halo Infinite's campaign should be at most $50.

— Solar the Halo Alf (@flip_solar) August 3, 2021

There has been campaign leaks that were data mined from the pre-release multi-player and they say it's really good. Halo infinite, it's story doesn't have to be perfect, but it just has to be good. Enough to bring in new fans, and bring back old ones back into the fold.

— Solomon Orenstein (@Sorenstein901) July 31, 2021

Are story spoilers enough to really tank the game after such an excellent showing last weekend? Remember that The Last of Us Part II, arguably the biggest release of the PlayStation 4 era, had its entire story leaked a month before its eventual launch, and it still became the third best-selling PlayStation game of all time, discourse about the story notwithstanding. Like with the multiplayer, the best way to judge Halo Infinite‘s story will be to play it for yourself.

Halo Infinite multiplayer will launch as a free-to-play experience that anyone can jump into regardless of whether they’ve bought the full package containing the campaign, so the PvP won’t really live or die by its campaign, no matter its quality. Ultimately, the campaign is a discussion for another day, and judging solely what I’ve played of the game’s multiplayer, I think there’s finally plenty to be excited about in this new chapter of Halo.

Halo Infinite is coming to Xbox Series X/S, Xbox One, PC, and Xbox Game Pass later this year.

The post Halo Infinite Multiplayer May Have Saved the Game appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3ls8ph3

[miu-paras]

Lvl. 5 ⋮ Red // Chapter 5

September 20th, 2019. 3:30 AM. ♪ - Notaker / Infinite (Part 1) | HEALTH / CRUSHER (Part 2)

I was never much of a fighter. In fact, I always avoided confrontation as much as I could. My mom tried to get me into martial arts as a kid, and I was always apprehensive about it. Always finding excuses, like I wouldn’t be good at it, I was too short, too clumsy, too weak. When I was being antagonized at school, I’d simply ignore them, walk away and try to forget their words. I never took to violence. It was only my games that were ever the exception, and knowing it was fiction made it easier to dissociate myself from it entirely.

But this wasn’t fiction. The looming figure above me wasn’t a product of pixels and polygons. The four massive fingers curled around my throat weren’t simple pictures. And the barriers in my mind protecting me from their control were no illusion.

No… none of this was fake.

Neither was the power that surged through me once more, building in my chest and extending through my leg, lightning surging and blasting forward from my feet as I kicked the Makalden through the ceiling.

The room fell quiet, lights flickering from the immense release of power. But I could still feel their heavy, shocked stares burning holes into my skin, skin already hot from the aura of electrical energy that engulfed every inch of my body. But I couldn’t see their faces, or even hear their voices, my senses far too hazy as I slowly began to regain control.

{ You… }

[ Perhaps I enjoyed your spar with the Vanossi a little too much. ]

{ I thought I needed to prove myself, though… }

[ Prove yourself by getting us the hell out of here. ]

Fair enough.

I rolled off the table, heaving and coughing from the pain of being strangled, rubbing the bruises on my neck from the hunter’s grip. My haziness was beginning to wear off, and I could see the many faces that surrounded me. Some were laced with fear, others with anger. And Pixul’s was covered with pure, unbridled rage. There was one, however, who seemed unphased by anything that had transpired. The one with blue hair and gaudy attire, who merely watched with an amused quirk of his brow.

After seeming as though everything was moving in slow motion, the atmosphere quickly shifted. Everyone reacted at once. Pixul brandished two handguns. Vex called for his men to cease me, two of the taller, rugged men surging forward. I quickly expanded Red across my entire body, effectively ricocheting the bullets that fired from Pixul’s barrel. The impenetrable metal of my tsanista protected me again as a two long, narrow blades extended from each of the henchman’s bionic arms, making a loud screech against my armor as it sliced downwards. I ducked and dodged the following attacks before being tackled by the other lackey and slammed against the wall. Their large hand roughly pinned my head against the wall, my arms and legs grappling the burly forearm, fighting against their hold. Their hand squeezed down on my head harder and harder, until—

BANG.

A loud noise reverberates through the building, loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room, heads veering towards the door and the grip on me loosening. The shouts and screams of partygoers could be heard from all the way downstairs as the entire club erupted into chaos. And Pixul looked even more alarmed than before.

Taz’s eyes suddenly went completely black, staring blankly into nothing until their vision returned, their face matching Pixul’s intensity as they turned to her.

“The Vaanen…”

As if Pixul wasn’t pissed off enough, the anger now practically radiated off her skin in waves.

“HOW THE FUCK ARE THEY HERE?!”

I smirked. Now’s my chance…

Tightening my grip around the henchman’s arm, the stronger man instantly went still under my grasp. They shivered violently, fighting against the control I had over their prosthetics. Their arms and legs whizzed and muttered, sparks fluttering out from every limb as they lost all matter of function. Then suddenly, they went limp, falling to the floor with a loud thud. Lightning enveloped my form again as I raced towards the door, making it there too fast for Vex, Pixul, or the rest of their cohorts to react. I shot a confident look in Pixul’s direction, brandishing a smile wide enough o drive her even more insane.

“Deadzoners… such faulty technology, don’t you think?”

If Pixul could breathe fire, they would be right now. Fire coming out of her mouth, ears, eyes, and nose in a fit of fury.

I darted out of the room, zooming past the guards at the door and every other armed individual in a ball of light. Pixul and Vex shouted at others to stop me, but they’d be too slow. I was already dashing down every hallway, turning every corner until I reached a balcony overlooking the entire dancefloor, and the chaos that inhabited it. People were screaming, pushing past each other and breaking out into fights. All while a team of black-cladded individuals in dark, metal helmets tried to put a stop the madness, shouting at the frenzy to stop. If they didn’t comply, they were either detained and dragged away, or shot down with little hesitation.

{ Those Daft Punk looking guys… are those…? }

[ The Vaanen. Nuva’s android police force. ] Red answered. [ I have no doubt you could take them, but it would probably be best to simply avoid them. They could serve as a distraction against— ]

Before Red could even finish their thought, a stampede of footsteps began moving towards us from either side, getting louder and louder. With no other choice, I leapt from the balcony and into the fray of chaos. Flying helped to slow my landing, but it didn’t stop me from landing right in the middle of the frantic mob and determined Vaanen operatives attempting to quell the chaos.

One of which stood above me with uncanny stillness.

[ Oh dear… ]

“Uh… hi?”

“Scanning…” the disembodied voice left the android, images flashing on their helmet as they held their steady gaze. In one of their four arms, the Vaanen tightly clutched the collar of a clubber, who struggled against their hold but was too high to fight back properly. The other three hands brandished weapons: two handguns, and a rifle that emitted a soft, neon glow from every ornate indentation and carving.

“Race: Camerian. Terran. Toxin levels: Medium. Heart rate: Elevated.”

The officer read off a number of stats, yellow Talurian text streaming across the helmet. I used the perceived distraction as an opportunity to start slowly backing away.

But before I could make my furtive escape, the text flashed bright red, and they slowly began standing taller. And I was frozen in place from the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Nuvassi citizenship: Not recorded.”

They released the clubber in their grasp before quickly stomping their heavy foot on their chest. Gripping the rifle with both of their lower hands while the other two raised the pair of handguns.

“Protocol: Arrest.”

Shit.

Before the officer even had a chance to subdue me in whatever fashion they were imagining, I raised my hand towards them, freezing them in their tracks. Controlling an android is harder than it would seem. They have more agency than the average machine. But even in their attempts to struggle against my influence, my power persisted. I extended my arm away, and in tangent with that motion the Vaanen was sent flying across the room, back slamming hard enough against the pillar to leave a large dent. Their helmet was cracked, flickering several times before the lights going out.

Part of me wanted that to be the end, but I knew it wouldn’t be. Especially since there were dozens—maybe hundreds—more Vaanen on that dancefloor with me, all of which I’d caught the attention of with my display. Their heads whipped away from the scene and in my direction, all their masks covered in bold, neon red lettering. If I wasn’t fucked before, I sure as hell was now.

“Assault of a Vaanen officer: Observed.” They all spoke in unison, turning their attention away from the running mob as their weapons were raised in my direction. I immediately expanded Red around my form again, ready for the fight I was now faced with.

“Protocol: Extermin—”

“YAAL KHR’ESSHI ULMVEK X’HIMIAL, YOU FUCKING CUNTS!!!!”

Their heads snapped towards the source of the outburst all at once. My head whirled around as well, looking up to take in the sight of Pixul at the balcony with her gun in hand, Taz and her men rushing from behind her and leaping over the rails to join the fray. They all wielded a weapon of some kind. Guns, blades, bludgeoning weapons. Some extending from their limbs, others pulled from the backs or belts. Taz’s arms were completely transformed, one forming a broad, heavy sword with an edge made of bright, hardened light, and the other a massive shotgun. They and the rest of the gang began fighting Vaanen and frantic clubbers alike, shooting and cutting down whoever challenged them. The Vaanen were an effective force themselves, however, taking out equally as many pawns as Pixul’s cohorts had. And unfortunately for me, I was caught in the middle of all of it, fighting both gang members and Vaanen alike. Thugs were easier to disable, having to only focus on specific areas and avoid being shot or stabbed myself, which my armor aided in. Vaanen took more concentration and even more skill to dodge and guard myself from their attacks. But over time the extension of my powers began to feel more natural, and I could more easily send them flying, or ramming into each other, or turning their weapons against them, or disabling their stupid looking helmets.

Pixul, however, was the true star of the violent clash. Seconds after her men hit the ground, her weapon to shift, as if made up of multiple, tiny components that churned and twisted like gears, multiplying and expanding until her mere handgun had become a state-of-the-art rifle. A wicked grin crossed her lips as she peered through the scope to take aim, a grin that grew wider and wider as she shot down each Vaanen that came into sight, expert precision put into each shot, every bullet landing in the exact same place, making headshot after headshot. Not a single fire was wasted. It was like she was some kind of sniper god, raining death and destruction down from her heavenly throne.

More Vaanen began to rush the building, and I used their entrance as an opportunity to slither my way out of the madness. With everyone distracted by the fight on the dancefloor, I hoped my escape would go unnoticed, and I could focus on quickly finding Iannis and getting the fuck out of here.

Wishful thinking, I know.

The moment I pushed my way out of the mob, I was confronted immediately by a Vaanen officer, who held their hands out towards me. Suddenly, I rushed forward, my armor pulled in by a magnetic force emanating from their palms. They held me roughly, and I readied myself to retaliate. But before I could even react, another shot rang out, and suddenly the officer went still. I looked up to see sparks sputtering from a hole in the center of their helmet, torn wire and metal entangled together as blackened oil leaking from their form. The Vaanen’s grip faltered, releasing me as they fell limp to the floor. My head whirled around to spot the sharpshooter grinning down at me from her perch, finger trembling against the trigger as she held her steady aim on me.

Time to move.

I extended to armor to cover my head as soon as another shot rang out. The bullet ricocheted against the impenetrable metal, my face going wide realizing how lucky I’d been when the shot struck the center of my shielded forehead. Immediately I went into hyperspeed again, running through every floor of the club, peering into every room, searching every corner for that familiar face. The pure white hair, the deep brown complexion, the scarring against their skin. But nothing. They were nowhere. Perhaps they’d escaped the club before the violence broke out. Perhaps they’d escaped Gan’em altogether. Maybe even Nuva. Maybe my appearance spooked them somehow, and they didn’t want to risk seeing me again.

Maybe this was all my fault.

My last stop was the bathroom, the one I’d met them in before. They were, of course, still nowhere to be found. No one was here except a dazed, drunken clubber in a complete stupor.

No one. Nothing�� this was all for nothing.

“Goddammit!” I yelled, kicking one of the stall doors hard enough that it fell off its hinges. I was more than a little angry. My whole reason for being here wasn’t here, and there was no way of knowing where the hell they were.

{ I failed… }

[ No. Iannis is still out there. We simply need to search harder now. ]

{ But I don’t have time for that! We won’t be able to find them now… not without asking the right people the right questions. And the only person I could think of that would have any idea of where they are is— }

“H-hhheyyyy… heeeeyyy!”

My head turned around to see the clubber waving a limp hand towards the entrance, a lazy smile spread across their lips. They stumbled forward and wrapped their hands around the figure that entered, attempting to embrace them as tightly as their Tears-induced stupor would allow.

The figure—now revealing themselves to be Pixul the further she stepped in—shoved the happy clubber hard enough that they’re sent crashing into the stall across from them. Pixul, with ice cold fury embedded deeply in their eyes, lifted her handgun and fired several shots into their frail form.

I jump at the sound of the shots, hand clasped over my mouth as I watched their body go limp and violet blood pool and spread out of the stall. Pixul, their rage subsiding some, merely watched me with a quirked brow, almost amused by my reaction.

“The Vaanen would’ve killed ‘em anyway,” she said simply with a shrug, taking steps towards me now, “It would’ve been your fault, y’know… you called those fuckers here. Jeopardizing my business… destroying my club… Your fault. All. You.”

I acted fast, hand reached out as I yanked the gun from her hands, aiming it at her with my finger on the trigger the second the weapon entered my grasp.

“Where’s Iannis?” I asked sternly, my expression harder than before. Pixul’s face was a mixture of shock and anger once the gun left her hands, but it quickly twisted into a vicious smile. And before I knew it she was… laughing? Cackling. Hard enough that she had to grip her sides. I stared at her, confusion and anger etched in my expression as I lowered the gun slightly. Either Pixul was slowly starting to lose her mind, or she truly found the entire situation humorous. Whatever it was, it irked me, and I felt my brow twitch slightly as my face went hard again and I steadied my aim once more.

“This isn’t a game!” I shouted, “Where are they? The server! The one from the other night! With braids and—”

“I know who the fuck you’re talking about, love.” Pixul answered finally after collecting herself from her fit. “And they’re gone. After hearing about the… ‘connection’ you two had in here, I had the bitch sent away.”

I felt a pang of sadness shoot through me, my hand trembling as the gun was starting to feel too heavy for me to carry. Heavier than the guilt that hanged heavy on my heart, knowing I was the cause for all this strife. Realizing that I’d probably never see Iannis again. That my chance for more answers was probably gone. That my mother… my mother…

I’m so sorry, Ima…

 “W-where did you send them?” My voice faltered, tears stinging the corner of my eyes and threatening to breach past my lids. Pixul only smiled wider at this.

“Wouldn’t you like to know~.” She sang, continuing to step closer yet again. I took a step back in response to each advancement from her, still holding the gun high. She paid it no mind, continuing forward until my back was against the wall and the barrel was pressed against her chest. I could tell she liked toying with me, even more so now with the state of clear distress I was in. Her smile was sinister, laden with as much desire to put a swift end to the standoff and any future ones as I was. With a bullet to the heart.

But the gun was in my hands, and as much as my finger twitched over the trigger, I still hesitated to pull it.

After everything… the death, the manipulation, the violence, the lies… I still hesitated.

“With powers like yours, it would be easy for someone to think themselves a god… and yet, you stand here… with a gun in my chest… and you’re trembling.” She frowned, the tone in her voice sounding almost… disappointed.

“Perhaps the weak-hearted Terrans have filled your mind with that same softness.” Pixul taunted, her voice low as suddenly her hand was around my neck, lifting me from the floor enough that I was eye-level, and slamming me into the wall again. She was a strong as Xhen. Maybe even stronger. I had since lost my grip on the weapon in my hand, the gun hitting the ground as I clawed at the hand around my throat, her fingers squeezing more and more around my larynx. Any attempt at resistance, the kicking of my legs or fingers tugging at her grip, was met with even more constriction. I felt the spark inside me fade, my powers betraying me in the moment of desperation. Too encumbered by my own sadness at my failures for any rage to resurface. Too preoccupied by the lack of air in my lungs to focus my energy properly.

Why did I hesitate… I shouldn’t have hesitated…

 “You should’ve just said yes.” She growled, anger returning to her glare. “It would’ve been easier on you if you di—"

There is a swift, sharp sound, one that makes Pixul’s eyes go wide as they suddenly shoot down to her side, where a thin blade punctured through her stomach. Blood oozes from the wound, and Pixul is too in shock to even make a sound. To distracted to notice that her assailant was her own cohort. One of Vex’s own men. The ostentatiously dressed figure with hair a more electric blue than hers.

Even I was shocked, but rather than let it show, I acted quickly. Fashioning Red into a heavy blade, my tsanista swiped wide and cut clear through the arm that held me in place.

I fell to the floor, gasping for the breath I was robbed of. Pixul fell to the floor too, crying out loudly the second her arm was severed. I stood from the blood-coated floor and backed away from her, watching as she writhed in pain, wailing and clutching the gory stump, then crawling on her remaining three limbs towards the gun, which her dissenter—whom I’ve nicknamed “Spike”—kicked away from her reach. Pixul was down. More than that—she was bleeding profusely, shivering and glaring up at the two of us with an insane look in her eyes.

“We need to get out of here.” Spike said. I look away from the scene to meet his eyes, nodding only once. I didn’t know if I could trust him, or anyone for that matter. But there was little time to dwell on a better solution. Not only had they literally and figuratively stabbed their partner in the back, they were offering to help me. That alone was more than enough.

He took my hand, and we ran out of the bathroom, Pixul glaring at us as we left, drenched in a pool of her own blood. I didn’t linger on the sight, merely looking ahead at the challenges that faced us. It was back to disabling the many Vaanen that swarmed us. Me, by pushing them away, shutting them down, or disarming them whenever I could. Spike took a more direct approach, swiftly jumping from one place to another, too fast for the Vaanen to target. He wielded a blade in each hand, and daggers in the two on his sides, freeing them of limbs and weapons as he cut through them with proficiency and ease. I hardly needed to do anything following closely behind them. Regardless, I offered my support where I could, shielding his side and taking out any that came behind us. Over time, our pace quickened, and my confidence returned, enough that I felt that spark building inside me once more.

We were ascending now, going from floor to floor until we reached the top. The further we got, the less Vaanen there were. And outside the windows that lined every wall of every level were cars that circled around the building.

“We can use one of these,” Spike said, grabbing my arm once more. I froze immediately, yanking away from his grasp.

“Where are we going?” I asked, eyeing in incredulously. It was a fair question. I was willing to follow him this far, sure, but now was the time for answers. Before I hopped in a vehicle and hauled ass with him, at least.

“I… I can’t explain right now. But I can when we get there.” He held out his hand towards me again, searching my expression for an ounce of faith. “You’ve trusted me so far… trust me now.”

I sighed deeply, shaking my head in uncertainty. I could run off on my own, yes. But where would I go? Was it better to go alone at all? I find that it’s better to have allies when in unknown places. Zhu’drek would have been more of a nightmare if not for Xhen. And even in a place as chaotic as this… I wasn’t opposed to having allies. Neither I nor Red had no reason to distrust him yet, after all.

Reluctantly, I reached for his hand. The second my palm clasped with his, the ceiling fell in on us. I was quick to pull him in, using Red to shield us from the glass and debris that rained from above. A giant thud shook the ground, and I thought it may have been a large chunk of the roof. Or at least, that’s what I’d hoped for. Instead, before us stood the hulking Makalden, surrounded by their shrouds of darkness, twisted vermillion eye glaring at me with furious intent.

They charged, and I immediately shielded us in a ball. The walls around us vibrated and tremored with each massive slam to the tsanista’s shell.

“What will it fucking take to kill this thing?”

[ More than electricity, it would seem. ] Red said, sounding more amused by the situation than alarmed.

{ Well, any advice? Suggestions, maybe?! }

[ I have dispatched many of their kind in my time with Kalar. They are very few means of resistance against them, one of which you have now, luckily. Even fewer weaknesses. Redirecting their mental attacks was one, though you have no access to such abilities yet… ] Red paused. They were thinking, searching their memories for a solution.

[ Rael, however, found that it was easier—and quicker—to simply… go for the eye. ]

I blinked. { The eye…? Just… stab it in the eye…? The weird, spirally one? }

[ It couldn’t hurt. ]

I turned to Spike, only to see that his eyes were shut tight. He was murmuring something unintelligible, arms trembling. The Makalden must’ve affected him, and he was shaking off the control. Or attempting to, at least.

“Keep it together…” I spoke softly, gently resting a hand on their shoulder. “Now listen to me… I’m gonna drop this shield, and when I do, I need you to stab that thing right in its eye. You’re fast… more accurate than I’ll ever be too.” I shook his shoulder, urging him to look towards me as I gave him a reassuring nod. “I’m putting all my trust in you… I need you to trust me too.”

He went still, very silent for a moment before finally answering with a small nod of his own. He turned his stern gaze forward again, and we both took one last breath. We needed to be fast, in sync. Otherwise, I was on my own should he succumb to the Makalden’s control… the last thing I wanted to be right now.

I dropped the shield, and Spike leapt forward, too fast for even the Makalden to react properly. He was quick to latch himself onto the hulking figure, arms and legs wrapped around his massive head and neck. I formed cuffs around the figure’s wrists with my tsanista, hindering any sort of retaliation while Spike sank his blade deep into the twisted, vermillion eye. Suddenly, the Makalden went as still as a statue, their arms going limp, the shadows around them dissipating. And then…

Poof.

They exploded into a cloud of black smoke and dark, viscous fluid sputtered across the walls and floor. Nothing was left of them but a billowing cloak floating gently to the ground.

I was grossed out at first. Spike, too. Then we flashed each other a wide grin, shaking off the gooey tar that coated our faces and clothes. Our celebration didn’t last long, however. More Vaanen still swarmed the building, both from the front entrance and around the building itself, circling the many floors in hovering SWAT vans. One of which shined their blinding headlights on the two of us.

I turned to Spike. “You still trust me?”

He quirked his brow, but nodded nonetheless.

I took his hand and ran forward, running towards the flying cars and away from the Vaanen that pursued us. I didn’t second-guess my actions, nor did I hesitate or question where I was going. I was unequivocally myself in this decision. As brazen, bold, and impulsive as always. I hurled us both through the window, tsanista protecting us from the shards of glass that flew around us, as we freefell from the building and towards the traffic, the bystanders, and the cold, hard ground that greeted us hundreds of feet below.

I tried flying to slow our descent, but it didn’t do much; Spike was too heavy for my delicate arms. But it wouldn’t matter; I had other means of transportation in store. A pair of Spike’s arms were wrapped firmly around my sides. I held onto his jacket, and with my free hand I tossed my tsanista forward. Immediately, it began to unfold itself, morphing and shifting until its shape was no longer a pendant, but a vehicle as large as the ones above and below us, complete with the same hovering capabilities I’d come to be familiar with in my time on this planet.

The roof of the car opened up, and we fell inside, quickly shuffling into our cold, metal seats. It closed above us, and without wasting another second I zoomed us forward, Vaanen leaping from the windows and into their own cars to chase us down with fervor.

I moved fast, weaving Red through the aerial traffic and being careful to dodge whatever cars tried to run us off our course or into the buildings surrounding us. Spike was in a state of shock, gaze shifting between the Vaanen trailing us, the bullets that ricocheted off our transport’s Ulterian steel shell, and me, the reckless driver of a vehicle that seemingly appeared out of thin air.

“How did y—”

“Not gonna lie to you? This is probably the biggest thing I’ve ever made,” I glanced at him then back at the traffic ahead with a nervous smile. “But listen… I need you to tell me where we’re going? This is kind of only my second time here, and last time wasn’t exactly a grand tour, so…”

“Oh—right.” He straightened and nodded, sitting properly in his seat now. “Several buildings down, there’s an alleyway… I’ll tell you when, but first…” His head turned to the Vaanen behind us, glaring at the sirens and shooters that tailed us so intently. “We need to lose these guys…”

“That’s what I’m trying to d—”

“Open up the top. I’m going out there.”

My head whipped towards him. “What?!”

“Just do it! Keep your eyes ahead, and keep them going in circles. I got this.”

My stare lingered. I was reluctant at first, but his determination was too unwavering to argue against. I opened the roof again, and he hopped out. The stare-down between him and the police didn’t last long. As soon as a shot rang out, he leapt forward. I could only see so much from my driver seat, but even my limited view was enough to paint a picture. Spike moved unbelievably fast. Like a cricket, he leapt from car to car, cutting through bullets, dodging them, disarming Vaanen and disassembling their weapons, dismembering them and throwing them from their vehicles and various perches with ease. He cut through some of the vehicles as well, a testament to just how sharp and sturdy those blades were. With quick, agile use of his swords, Turrets were sliced in half, and vehicle parts rained down from the sky in pieces.

Even though I did my part, swerving every which way and circling around the various skyscrapers and keeping the Vaanen confused on their chase, I still felt useless from where I sat. As the Vaanen increased in number, and their behavior became more unpredictable, it wouldn’t be long until Spike was overwhelmed.

“Red… how do you feel about being bait?”

[ …I think you should stay in the car. Your track record with combat so far has been… less than favorable. ]

“He needs help!”

[ Maybe you should reconsider your approach a bit more before flying into danger with reckless abandon? ]

I wanted to take in their words a bit more. I wanted to be as cunning and strategic as Red wanted me to be. Less rash in my decision-making. Less naïve. Less… me. It is what got us in the situation, after all.

But it’s also what would get us out.

“No time to think! Head empty! Gotta go!”

I took a deep breath, exhaled, then jettisoned myself from the vehicle, still keeping Red on their course. I could hear their curses in my head, but I ignored them, flying towards the swarming Vaanen cars as fast as I possibly could.

The energy within me swelled again, filling up my chest before flowing outwards, blanketing me in blinding, electrical power. One Vaanen had turrets aimed at Spike’s back. They had no chance to fire, however, because I’d shot myself through the bottom of their car. It practically exploded upon contact, splintering in various directions.

Spike, along with several of the Vaanen officers, veered their heads towards me. I winked in their direction before descending onto another approaching vehicle. I could hear one surging towards me from behind. I was quick to turn around, holding my hand out and freezing the car in place. With both hands, I made tugging motions in the air, as if to pull open a heavy door. The vehicle began to split, metal, wire, and glass breaking, snapping, and tearing apart until I flung my arms outward, both halves flying with them in either direction.

My new comrade offered a snide grin in return, using the opportune distraction as a chance to strike while their guards were down. And just like that, the fight had picked up again.

It went on like that for a while. Spike tearing through Vaanen, me tearing through hovering cars, motorcycles, and turrets. All until there were barely any officers left, only a few in a battered van tailing behind us. Spike leapt back to Red, landing on the roof before turning to give me a bright smile and a thumbs-up. I only laughed at the sudden dorkiness and returned one as well.

[ Congratulations on you both not being dead. ]

{ Thanks! …I guess. }

[ Don’t mention it. ]

Our celebration didn’t last nearly as long as I would’ve liked. Sirens rang through the air, and many of the neon signs that decorated every building suddenly flashed red. An image of a woman appeared on every screen, Talurian characters scrolling beneath her moving lips.

“VHESK’TEKK VALLUTHI. SIANANSIS KH’OMMIAR XH’ENTESH. PERSONS OF INTEREST IDENTIFIED.”

Our faces were what flashed next.

Oh. Shit.

“We’ve gotta move!” Spike shouted from below me, and before the words even left his lips I was already rushing towards Red. I opened the roof and the both of us hopped in immediately, racing away from the many neon signs changing bright red in our wake.

“Where do we go?” I turned to Spike. His eyes scanned every edge of the city in rapid motion. He looked almost frazzled. Completely caugh off guard by what had transpired.

“I… that way!” He pointed to an alleyway several buildings ahead. I nodded once and instantly began directing Red towards the desired location, bobbing through the now clustered traffic that surrounded us. It was a rough descent, managing to clip the side of a blinking neon billboard and nearly crashing into a car passing by, but we came out of it unscathed. We drifted straight into the alleyway, right through an invisible barrier that only made itself known as we crossed through its threshold, colors dancing around our vision for a split second. And rather than the alleyway I’d pictured before, we were parked in front of a shed, plain but big, with no windows and a single brown door.

[ Photomazers… hiding a rundown shack. Not sketchy at all. ]

I was quiet, watching Spike closely as he hopped out and began approaching the door.  I shifted my tsanista back to its original form, taking trepidatious steps towards Spike, who held the door open with one set of hands and urged me forward with the other.

Inside was a tight corridor of metal walls, with another door at the other end. We walked in a straight line, the dimly lit lights flickering as we inched closer. Opening the second entrance revealed a staircase, leading steeply in one direction. The more nervous I became with each step, the more the lights above us sputtered in rapid intonation.

I expected another long corridor, maybe more confusing than the last, when the final door swung open. Instead, I was greeted to a room full of… guns.

A vast, immeasurable number of guns.

There were aisles upon aisles filled with shelves of weapon parts, bolts, machinery, and gadgets I’d never seen until now. The walls were decorated with them, from rifles to pistols, to the shifting kind that Pixul had. Workbenches were situated between the many shelves, decorated themselves with blueprints and incomplete projects. I imagined myself seated at one of them, too high to remember my own name but still working away. That’s what Pixul had in store for me, I supposed. All of this was her plan, with me at the helm of it all.

“A weapons factory… or a small one at least,” I murmured. “But if Pixul had all of this, why did she need me?”

My head whirled around to find Spike, who’d shuffled back and forth across the room. He’d begun packing as many weapons and parts into a box as he could. I watched him—glared at him—more perplexed than ever.

“And I’m guessing your plan was to steal it all? And use me to do it?” I snapped at him, my accusatory gaze fixated on him. He practically froze in place.

“Wh—no! No, that’s no what—… Listen…” He sighed, dropping the few things he  had in hand as he approached me, trying to ease the anger that was building. “There’s more to this… and I need your help to do it. I promise I’ll explain everything, I just need—”

A loud, heavy thud could be heard levels above us. Loud enough that it reverberated throughout the entire room. Could be the Vaanen. Or perhaps Pixul’s men finally making their advance. It was too hard to tell from here, but either way the threat was all the same. One thing was for sure though: whatever qualms or distrust I had for Spike in that moment would have to wait. We needed to get out of here. And quickly, too.

Spike was frantic now, trying to cram as much as he can in that box, with no idea or plans of how to smuggle it out. Meanwhile, I was searching the room. Mostly for a way out, but also for a means of getting myself home.

Which, thanks to my own keen survey of the room, didn’t take long at all.

The transporter wasn’t like the others I’d encountered. Unlike Xhen’s and Pixul’s, this one lacked the small, rounded shape that was compact enough to fit in your pocket. Rather, this one was more of a tablet, complete with a holographic screen and more complex controls. Regardless, it worked in much of the same way, albeit with easier input of coordinates, and more… customizable features. I could transport just myself, transport another target, or… transport anything within a given radius.

The wheels in my mind began to turn.

This place was an artillery, undoubtedly belonging to Pixul. Spike was here to steal from it, and if coupled with everything else that transpired tonight, one could assume he was no more a friend of Pixul than I was. If anything, he’s most likely been acting as a double agent—or… whatever it is he is—for a while in an effort to enact this plan.

Maybe we should help him with it.

Frankly, I was fed up. I was tricked, drugged, strangled, nearly mind-controlled, shot at, and forced to run for my life, all while running on zero sleep. And what’s worse, I was now Nuva’s most wanted alongside a man who’s name I didn’t know, and who’s background I knew nothing about. Yet he’s the only one on this fucked up planet that wasn’t trying to kill me.

Circumstance fueled anger, and anger fed a desire for more revenge.

I entered the coordinates and set the transportation radius to cover the entire room. A blue, holographic grid pattern covered every inch of the room’s contents, including me and Spike, who’d stopped in his tracks once they realized what I was doing.

[ You cannot be serious… ] Red dissented.

“I’m so serious.” I mumbled back, finger hovering over the command button.

I could hear the Vaanen at the door, breaking through and shuffling down the narrow staircase. Spike’s gaze switched between me and the door before finally fixating on the danger that approached us, brandishing a blade in each of his four arms. Soon, those doors would swing open, and he alone would cut down the threat. But I wouldn’t let him.

Silently, I made a prayer that I’d never have to set foot in this place ever again. Then I pressed the command button on the transporter.

In an instant, I felt my body swell with that familiar energy, that push and pull of the universe as we’re thrown across galaxies. It’s only a second later that I feel myself falling against the cold, hard floor of the shooting range. The weapons that threaten to hail down on us were instead frozen in mid air, my hands held above my head as I slowed their descent to the ground.

I take in the sight of my surroundings once more. The targets lined against the wall. The bows hanging from racks, arrows docked in quivers that hung alongside them. Hundreds of guns and parts that littered the floor. And Spike, staring at me with a face riddled with both shock and confusion.

Welcome back to Earth, Miu.

You’re fucked.

19th hour of Sandis Vaak. At the border of the southern faction of Seris. The skies are blanketed in gray, and the ground soaked in violet.

Kalar and their forces have arrived. A final answer to the southern rebellions.

The Morassi Resistance have spread their ideology further into the heart of the continent than before, which in turn has led to more outbreaks and riots by small indigenous groups, fishers, farmers, the working class. Those tired of the elite of Camer’s central factions, and the lack of protection and acknowledgement of the Ministry. Centuries of preaching about the greatness of Camer. Centuries of never being included in that narrative. It all came to a boil at once.

To answer with violence was a swift decision for the rest of the Ministry. They had since grown tired of Minister Ghivussi and Minister Gimli’s more passive approach, attempting to appease the protestors by bringing their queiries to the light of those in power. But nothing ever came of it. Radical visionaries want nothing more than to completely dismantle the system that disenfranchises them, and the Camerian elite were far too apprehensive of change. Even the slightest threat to their dominance had to be snuffed out.

Kalar had no problem answering their selfish grievances in this manner, but they cared very little for their own motivations. The Grand Minister had over time become less concerned with the state of politics. Class tensions, riots, and civil war were all things that seemed diminutive in their eyes. Too world-bound. Too tied to the present. Kalar had their eyes on what was to come. On prophecy, fate, and their own intuition.

Kalar was different now. Ever since Eshta brought the [ MEMORY REDACTED ] to their feet. Ever since Umvis’ passing. They were not themselves. Obsessive and quick to snap. Impulsive. Dangerous.

Kalar was spiraling. And Seris would be the first to feel the brunt of it.

I was pushed to my limit that day. I remember at one point becoming massive wheels lined with serrated blades, carving through the very earth beneath their running feet. At another point, I splintered into a million daggers that rained down from the skies above their head, whistling through the air until I pierced through flesh so quickly it could barely be heard. Massive structures, buildings, homes formed of metal were bent, crushed, and toppled to the ground. The very gravity beneath them shifted, pulling them down to their hands and knees as a pitch so high in frequency rang through the air until they bled from their ears. It was a bloodbath. A massacre, one of which Kalar was the sole culprit. Very few rebels survived that day, and even fewer civilians looked upon their Grand Minister with kind eyes from then on.

Rael was also there, watching as their ima carved through swaths of fighters with vigor. It was nothing to them. An effortless flick of their wrist, extension of their will. Rael’s approach to the violence was on a much narrower scale. They focused on enemy at a time, cutting them down with as much speed and efficiency as the Minister leading the charge. They never reveled in their suffering, however. Never once found enjoyment in taking a life. Though they never empathized either. Their heart was completely closed to it. Detached from the violence. There was no sorrow, nor was there any hint of sadism.

This was Rael’s duty. Their sole objective. Yet another weapon for Kalar to extend their will upon. Another cog in the wheel of their grand scheme. And Rael was so passive, so eager to please, so desperate to find purpose in this life, that they allowed their ima complete control.

Hours into the violence. Barely any were left standing. Those that did surrendered their arms, and their lives, to serve the Grand Minister in any way they deemed appropriate. Anything to avoid imprisonment. Or worse, torture. Or death.

Kalar merely waved them off, as if this were beneath them. They would deal with them later. The Minister’s mind was preoccupied, their attention fixated on the next goal. The second cog on her wheel.

The estate of the Minister of Seris. Ghivussi was waiting for them, down on hands and knees. Their face weary and ridden with grief, whilst Kalar wore a smile. The battle was over, and now Minister Ghivussi knelt at the feet of their victor. Rael kept some distance, lurking around the vast space of the Minister’s living quarters as they observed the scene with curiosity that was almost cat-like.

“Oh, Ghivussi…” Kalar began, twirling my bladed form between their fingertips with deft precision. “If you had only done your job. Think of all the lives you could’ve saved.”

“This… this was an unnecessary display of your power. This could’ve all been avoided had you and the rest of the Ministry simply… simply listened to the people! What their needs were… I could not enact change alone…” Ghivussi coughed, old bones trembling as they straightened from their kneeling position, staring up into Kalar’s eyes with all the determination they could muster. “I’ve done all I could. While you all did nothing. The blood is on your hands.”

Kalar huffed a dry laugh, rolling their eyes as they glanced down at Ghivussi. They seemed unimpressed by their tenacity, and even less moved by their words. Instead, their eyes wandered around the chamber, across the elaborate tapestries and the ornate carvings in the ceiling, down to the wide entrance that led to the bleak devastation Kalar left behind.

“All of this… none of it matters, does it?” Kalar stated, eyes still fixated on the ash gray clouds that rolled over the decimated landscape. “In the end, it’s all meaningless.”

“I-in the end…?” Ghivussi asked, seeming more unnerved by the Grand Minister with every passing second.

Kalar’s eyes flickered towards them again, their smile stretching across their once vacant expression, “Oh, yes. The ending… I’ve seen it.” Kalar crouched down to their level, roughly taking their face in their hand. “There are many worlds to visit… but this one ends. That ending approaches... getting closer and closer every day.”

Their smile is sanguine now, more genuine. As if they were attempting to quell their greatest fears. To comfort them…

“It all starts with you.”

Kalar released their face, standing and turning to their child, who was now standing frozen in place, awaiting a command.

“Kill them. Remove the head.”

Tension rose in Rael, who hesitated to step forward, to even utter the defiance that later left their lips.

“Ima… they’re a Minister. I can’t—”

“They will soon be replaced. It is of no consequence, child.” Kalar answered plainly, pointing their blade toward Ghivussi’s throat. “I will not repeat myself.”

Rael is quiet now, jaw tightened as they inched forward. Their eyes flickered between Ghivussi, who quivered in fear and begged helplessly for their life, and their ima, who merely stared at the frightened Minister with complete disregard, with unwavering apathy. Kalar was unhinged, and with every step forward, Rael saw it more clearly.

Despite their unease, there was no falter in their stride. No trembling in their stance as they held their tsanista—Galagar, it was named—extended in its blade form to the Minister’s neck. They fell quiet, shaking even more under Rael’s solemn stare, and Kalar’s intense glower.

Rael would do it. They had no choice. It was either kill the Minister and return home, or face Kalar. The largest threat. The worst threat.

Rael’s arm shot out, and the Minister’s head toppled to the floor, coating the smooth crystal surface in a pool of fresh blood.

Kalar looked pleased. Rael looked ill.

It was the first time I’d ever seen them disturbed by a kill. Usually, they were as unfeeling in their actions as their ima. But this time was different. They just killed a member of the Ministry. And Kalar carried their head around as if it were a trophy.

Rael felt sick.

“The rebels did this.” Kalar held the head high, staring into its lifeless eyes. “They murdered their own Minister. Began an uprising. They needed to be stopped… and we did that today.” Their eyes flickered towards their child, the smile returning to their face. “You did that.”

Galagar dropped to the floor with a loud clang. Rael’s fists tightened, trembling as they glared at their ima with rage. With disgust.

“You call this… justice? You think this is right?!” Their voice was raised now, their gait quickened as they approached Kalar. “None of this… none of this was for Camer. It was for you. You and that… that fucking—”

“Mind your tongue.” Kalar snapped, their lips suddenly shifted into a frown. They were more than displeased with the sudden display. They tossed the head across the room, moving close enough that they were glaring down at them, that their breath could be felt on them.

“And if you are going to get brave with me, make sure you have your weapon in hand.”

There was stillness between the both of them, eyes locked in silence, yet the tension could be felt in the air. Neither moved. Not even so much as a flinch could be seen.

Until…

Galagar leapt from the floor and snapped back into Rael’s hand. Once the tsanista touched their palm, they were sent flying back as gravity betrayed them. They recovered, landing against the wall in a crouched position, one they only held for a second as Kalar stretched my form into a giant pillar, shooting out towards Rael. They leaped out of harm’s way, leaving a massive crater in their wave as they ran across the walls and ceiling searching for an opening. Kalar would not make it easy for them, pulling me back and splitting me several ways to form large rings, each getting larger than the other as they revolved around Kalar’s now levitating form. The rings were wide and heavy, each one shooting out pillar after pillar in an effort to cease their opponent’s quick evasions. But Rael was too fast, too cunning, too well-trained to fall prey to such simple tricks. They dodged, weaved, and ran quickly across the walls, ceiling, even leaping from ring to ring until they found their opening. They formed thin daggers from their tsanista, shooting them towards the Minister with great precision. Most were deflected by the inner ring, but one found it way in, scratching them across the cheek.

Rael found their opening. Like a fly lured into a spider’s web.

The scar healed immediately, and Kalar grinned viciously as the younger one leapt towards them in one instantaneous motion, blinking closer once a ring threatened their path. They were inches away from Kalar’s face, inches away from dealing any sort of blow with real weight to it.

Then time stopped around them. And Rael was frozen in mid-air.

Kalar smiled, my rings reduced in size and forming cuffs around both of my tsanagar’s arms. They stare at their child curiously for a while, until their fingers wrapped slowly around their neck. Time started again, and Rael, as quickly as they charged forward, was slammed against the ground with enough force that several large cracks split through the floor in several directions.

Rael strained against their grip for a while, legs kicking as much as they could under Kalar’s weight, light gasps escaping as fingers tensed around their throat. After some time however, they ceased in their struggling, not even bothering to retaliate in any form knowing Kalar would have a response of their own. The young tsanagar merely laid there, tapered breaths leaving them as they stared deeply into Kalar’s eyes, full of intent, of a rage that slowly became subdued as their wicked smile returned once more.

“You don’t see it yet… do you?” Kalar’s fingers tightened slightly, their other hand pinning Rael’s wrist harshly against the floor to halt the clawing at their arm. “You can’t feel it… but you will. Destiny finds us all.”

Kalar released Rael and stood, yanking the younger one from the ground by their shoulders, holding them tightly in place as they whispered against their ear.

“I still have need of you, Exiled.”

[ MEMORY REDACTED ]

Rael stayed behind for a while, rubbing the finger-shaped bruises around their neck, and staring hard at the severed head at their feet. Kalar re-entered the bleakness of the outside world with a smile, perhaps proud of themselves for fulfilling whatever task they set out to achieve with all of this madness. I remember their elation quite clearly. I remember my own unease.

[ Am I still yours? ]

The question left me on impulse. It caused Kalar to pause, the joy wiped from their features and replaced with… uncertainty. Discomfort.

They clasped their hand over my medallion form, squeezing gently in an act of intimacy. The one moment of silence, of peace, we had in a long time.

“Always.”

Always…

[ Feels like a lie. ]