The Edge of a Knife

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

A combination of having spent too much time around humans, as well as dark events and all too vivid memories had changed her. Though fairly certain that she still had more patience than the average human, there had been several situations over the recent years where Faeryl had struggled to contain her temper, and she found it harder each time to counterbalance the bitter anger growing within.

Ksi’ka the White had made her weakening resolve painfully obvious, and it had taken all her willpower to keep up the façade of calmness that threatened to shatter with each verbal blow from the leader of the Humanist movement. Dirty Knife Ear. Weak. A servant to humans. Unworthy of the soil of Sosaria. The woman’s words had acted like the bellows of a smith’s forge, fanning the flames until the rage burned white-hot inside her, leaving her unable to think clearly.

She hoped that her new friends had bought her bluff that the encounter hadn’t bothered her that much. She needed help, but she wasn’t positive she could fully trust them yet; even though they had defended her from Ksi’ka. Besides, didn’t they have enough to deal with already? Prophecies and daemons… Keeping Alisiea and her unborn child safe from harm was difficult enough; she didn’t want to burden them with her internal conflict. She would seek aid from another.

Absently brushing her hair out of her eyes, Faeryl walked briskly out of Umbra and through the quiet town of Shinduago Charnnagen, pausing only long enough to cast a glance at the imposing statue of Selvetarm. The large spider had the duel effect of both fascinating and frightening her, for she often felt that it was watching her, and there were times she could almost swear that she saw it move. Now however, the spider remained still; its unseeing eyes staring blankly into the distance. Turning away from the statue, Faeryl continued south until she came to the mouth of a tunnel leading through the mountains surrounding the Dry Highlands.

She wandered through the tunnel and into the sandy expanse of the Highlands, not really thinking about where she was headed. She had walked this path so often over the years that she didn’t need to think; it was habitual. A short time later she arrived at her destination and with a whispered promise, slipped through the irons gates and into the dark stone building.

“Beware Ksi’ka. If I’m to die, then I’m taking you and all of your vile Humanist followers with me.”

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

“I'd like you to teach me how to fight.”

She waited, not sure what to expect for an answer. Golden eyes regarded her with intrigue, causing her heart to flutter with a level of both nervousness and anticipation that she rarely ever felt anymore.

“What do I seek to gain from this?”

“I…”

Faeryl frowned slightly as she tried to come up with a response. It was a valid question, and not one she could easily find an answer for. Seeming to realize this, the other woman spoke again, her gaze curious and unwavering.

“Perhaps we can work out a payment over time.” After a moment, she made a request. “Give me your hand…”

Faeryl took a few small steps forward, effectively closing the gap between the two, and though slightly confused, held out her hand as requested. The woman moved quickly, ending up behind her, and in seconds, Faeryl found herself restrained with a kryss at her throat and a dagger over her heart. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she kept perfectly still, hardly daring to breath.

“The first rule of combat is deception. There is great advantage in feigning friendship to your greatest of enemies.”

The woman leaned her head back slightly; her sultry voice barely a whisper in Faeryl’s ear.

“Love and War make strange, but befitting bedfellows.”

Still having the kryss at her throat, Faeryl squeaked a sort of response as to keep from moving too much, and sighed in relief when she felt both the blade and the tail that had restrained her disappear. She turned quickly to face the woman, eying her cautiously as she began to speak again.

“You do not wish to fight… that is not your objective. That is NOT your heart’s desire.”

“No?”

“Fighting denotes that there is an equal chance, either side, of winning. You wish to kill.” A smirk graced the woman’s lips as she stated “I can teach you to kill.”

Faeryl smiled at those words. That was the answer she sought. She listened in silence as the woman continued.

“It is the manner, however, in which you wish to kill. Personally, I have enacted MANY ways of killing over the years… since I became this warrior.”

Faeryl followed with her gaze, turning to face the woman as she moved around her. She received a smirk in approval of her actions.

“Good. Never give your enemy your back.”

“That’s one lesson I already knew.”

“Good. Pledge yourself to me. I want your utmost loyalty… were it that my desire was to twist your mind and your body to my blackest desire… Pledge that I shall have such devotion. Pledge that you will fulfill my every dark wish.”

Had it not been for the anger still burning hot within her, she might have realized the danger of such a request. She might have turned and left before the situation became any worse. But she didn’t. With a small nod, Faeryl gave her reply.

“I will do whatever is your will.”

“Prove it.”

“How…?”

The golden eyes that had regarded her with curiosity now flashed with the same disgust that crept so subtly into her voice as the woman turned her back on the elf.

“Clearly, you do not want this gift I bestow…”

Faeryl was getting frustrated. How could she be expected to prove her loyalty when the will of the one demanding it of her remained a mystery? With a sigh she asked again, keeping her voice low and carefully devoid of the frustration she felt.

“What would you have me do to prove myself?”

She stared helplessly, her body frozen in complete shock. The kryss narrowly missed her face; its movement had been so sudden that she’d had no time to react.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?!” Golden eyes flashed again. “It was not a matter of my missing your face! It was a matter of cold control. Calculation. A killer instinct. You lack this… currently.”

Faeryl remained silent, unsure whether or not speaking now would be wise. The woman continued regardless.

“You may START proving yourself to me… by slaughtering innocents. Dozens. HUNDREDS of them. I want you BATHED in their blood. You will ENJOY watching the life drain from their eyes… their souls depart. I will LEND you some materials to help you. You will use ONLY your weapon, for now… and you will slaughter as many innocent souls as you can.”

The elf nodded nervously in response, having been left utterly speechless by the woman’s demands.

“Come with me.”

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

“And how are you doing tonight, Faeryl?”

She had decided to accept the offer and join Judas, Jolicia and Lucas at the Salty Dog tavern in Britain. They had been talking about their encounter with the demons plaguing Alisiea in Haven only a short time earlier, and so this question had been rather unexpected. Faeryl regarded Judas in momentary silence, carefully choosing how to answer his seemingly innocent question. Her thoughts drifted back to the previous night in Cove, and her retaliation against the humanist knights.

“I'm not dead yet. Though... I can't say the same for the humanist knights that remained in Cove.”

Her comment seemed to pique his interest, and he pushed for more. She attempted to keep her answers vague, but still he pressed, until she finally gave in. She wouldn’t tell them everything, but she knew they were bound to figure out something was wrong out sooner or later.

“I fear…”

She dug through her bag for a few moments before drawing out a small dagger made of glass. She gazed it at as she spoke, watching her reflection in its clear, flawless blade.

“I fear my anger has finally bested me.”

They asked her to explain, and so she did, albeit somewhat reluctantly. She told them how she had gone to a friend seeking assistance in learning how to use a blade, and how killing the humanists in Cove hadn’t been her acting in defense. The conversation could have ended there without too much trouble, but growing regret of her actions forced her to continue; to recall what she would rather have forgotten.

“It wasn’t just them…”

The others watched her in growing concern, but she didn’t notice. Keeping her gaze fixed on the reflection in the dagger, Faeryl tried to give an explanation without revealing too much. It wasn’t easy.

“Innocent blood was spilled. And I... I don't know. I almost enjoyed it.”

She didn’t dare to look at them, but she could feel their eyes on her, and it was making her extremely uncomfortable. Then came a question she wished hadn’t been asked, for it made the guilt of her actions much more difficult to bear.

“Who…?”

“I don't know who they were, just that they tried to stop me.”

A voice in the doorway of the Salty Dog startled Faeryl into silence. She quickly slipped the dagger back into her bag as to not draw attention to it before joining the others in greeting the newcomer. She vaguely recognized the woman, Anna, from their recent journey into Khaldun and, much to her relief, as Anna joined them at the table, the conversation turned from her actions in Cove to idle chitchat about the difficulty of finding work.

Throughout the conversation with Anna, Faeryl had continued to avoid eye contact with the others, hoping that her silence wouldn’t attract their attention. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the small glass dagger in her bag. Should she tell them everything? Could she trust them? Even now she could hear it calling to her, a dark and seductive whisper in her mind. It was Judas’ voice that finally snapped her back to reality, temporarily distracting her from the darkness attempting to creep its way back into her thoughts.

“You are quiet.”

“Your point?” She glanced up at him with a slight grin.

“I want to hear ... more... of what you were speaking of earlier.”

Her smile faded, replaced by a small frown as she gave him a hesitant reply.

“I’d rather not… Not now.”

She could only assume he had understood her reluctance to continue in the presence of Anna, as he didn’t press her any further that evening, although they both knew that the conversation wasn’t over. The small group parted ways a short time later, but it wouldn’t be until shortly before daybreak that Faeryl would return, exhausted, to her Malas home. The last to depart the tavern, she quickly headed for the nearest moongate.

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

On the outskirts of Britain, gentle swells broke rhythmically against the rocky shoreline, sparking a sense of placidity within her mind that she had long since thought to be lost to her. Opening her eyes to once again to gaze over the sparkling expanse before her, she began to hum an improvised tune to the natural tempo that the sea provided. And in that single moment, she felt almost like herself again. Almost.

“Faeryl…?”

She turned upon hearing a familiar voice calling her name, and smiled brightly when she saw Judas. They chatted idly for a short time, before she turned the topic to the unfinished conversation between them. She began by recounting the events in Cove again; this time attempting to be clearer in her explanation.

“After the encounter with Ksi'ka, I returned to Cove to make a point. I hunted down and killed any Humanist I could find. At some point during the slaughter... I lost control. I... Couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. They came from their houses... The screams drew them out.”

“Who did you harm, exactly?”

“Several villagers... I didn't know them. They had done nothing wrong. I enjoyed it. Watching them suffer. Watching the life drain from them. When I finally managed to stop... I was scared. I left Cove as fast as I could. It doesn't matter how hard I try to forget. Their blood is on my hands.”

Watching him as she finished speaking, Faeryl couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she didn’t have to wait long to find out. She hadn’t expected it to be good, but that didn’t make his words sting any less.

“I am at a loss, Faeryl. I am no innocent myself, but... You are -- were -- a good woman. Your actions prove the Humanists right.”

“I know. It... I never used to be like this. This anger didn't exist before.”

She suppressed another sigh as he asked her where her anger had come from, knowing she was about to tell him secrets that she had kept buried inside for years. Secrets that she had sworn she would never speak of to anyone.

“That dagger I had back at the tavern... It wasn't your average blade. A glass dagger. It's a constant reminder... I loathe it, but can't bring myself to be rid of it.”

“A reminder of what, exactly?”

Was it too late to brush it off as nothing? Yes. She and Judas may not have known each other well, but Faeryl was fairly certain that if she didn’t tell him now, he wouldn’t quit until she did. Letting out a deep breath, she answered him.

“The dark days when the Shadowlords terrorized the cities... Tormented the citizens.”

“How do those foul creatures relate to this...?”


“I was unfortunate enough to have been in a city targeted by Hatred, though technically... They were influencing me for a time before that.”

“I do not understand.”

“Blackrock. Many mages experimented with it, many died. Some however, were... I guess you could call it successful. More like infected. The voices... Constant voices. Small bits of conversation. Sometimes idle chitchat, sometimes violent outbursts. Incessant.

“You participated in these experiments? And heard these voices?” Unable to guess his current feelings in regards to her tale, she resumed, pausing to answer questions when they were asked.

“My curiosity got the better of me, yes. No one knew it at first... But we were hearing the Shadowlords. Constant chatter in my mind. Messing with me... Making me feel what they pleased.”

“And what was it you felt?”

“Anger. Far beyond any I had ever felt before. When Hatred took over the city I was in, I feared I had gone completely mad.”

She looked Judas over, noticing a hint of uneasiness in his gaze. He asked her what they had made her do, and she answered, although vaguely.

“What does Hatred make most people do? Anyways, even after their defeat... The anger remained. Perhaps it was a side-effect of the sickness. I don't know.”

“I meant ... did you kill anyone?”

“There was bloodshed. People everywhere killing each other for no reason. People who had that very morning been talking and laughing...”

“But they met defeat. It is over now... It should be over.”

“My dagger... and others like it were handed to those who chose to aid them. By then... I wasn't exactly in my right mind. It should be over, but even after their defeat, I can still feel them. Sometimes I half expect to start hearing them again.”

At the confirmation that her dagger had been given by the Shadowlords, Judas smiled. Faeryl watched him in slight confusion until he spoke; his words making her blood run cold.

“Then is the solution not simple? Destroy the dagger.”

She stared at him. The shock sending her mind reeling. Despite her attempts to calm herself, Faeryl's next words didn't come easily.

“I... can't. I've tried... So many times. But I can't do it.”

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

Destroy the dagger? Was he insane?! No. That was not going to happen. Judas’ voice broke through the torrent of thoughts racing though Faeryl’s mind; he was asking where the dagger was.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

“I hid it.”

“From yourself or from others?”

“Both” She eyed him warily as she spoke “It’s been better not having it with me. I feel a bit better.”

“So what will prevent you from seeking it out? In a moment of weakness?”

It was a valid question, and one she had expected him to ask. Faeryl sighed inwardly, unsure of how to answer, as nothing she could think of would come close to satisfying him. She had known when she hid the dagger that her plan wouldn’t work forever, that eventually her resolve would fail and she would return for it. But for now keeping her distance from it was all she was willing to do.

“I'll just have to hope I'm not alone in a moment of weakness.”

“Do you truly think that is acceptable? You killed ten or fifteen people the last time you slipped... But before we can even think about that... We have to make certain there is not a repeat of this. This dagger is your only connection to them?”

“As far as I know.”

“We could try to destroy it... together... I can help you. Or you could give it to me.”

“No.” A hint of her agitation had crept into her tone, but she didn’t care.

“Why...?” She could see the confusion in his eyes as Judas spoke “Are we not friends? Do friends not help each other?”

“Just… No.” Faeryl felt herself becoming increasingly agitated, the harsh tone of her response echoing her feelings. She watched Judas in silence; he seemed mildly surprised by her tone, backing down with a slow nod.

“Alright... Will you at least consider either of my suggestions?”

A few moments passed before Faeryl found herself calm enough to speak again. She needed to try to explain the reason to him. Her voice shook, but more out of fear rather than the emotional distress that his offer had stirred within her.

“You don't get it. If I hand it over to you... Who's to say I won't try to...” She looked at him helplessly, unable to summon the words.

“Try to what...? Kill me?”

Faeryl nodded in response to his question, causing Judas to shrug.

“I am willing to take that risk.”

“I’m not.” She spoke quietly, knowing that no matter how much she liked Judas, she couldn’t guarantee that no harm would come to him for trying to help her. “I'm not going to put you in danger. Not willingly.”

“You do not have to be alone in this.”

Judas took another step towards her, his sudden nearness presenting another issue that Faeryl had been in denial about, but that she could deny no longer. She brought up the prophecy and the demons in an attempt to distract herself from the sudden urge that had flared up within. It didn’t work. She vaguely heard Judas speaking, but her flustered mind was screaming at her to get away.

“I... I need to go.”

“Where…?”

“Somewhere. Anywhere. I need to be alone.”

She forced herself to keep still, watching him take a step back as he reminded her that there were those who wanted to help her, and to find him if she felt the need to. She nodded weakly in response, preparing to take her leave. A few minutes later, she arrived home.

~~~~~

Judas’ final words to her that evening echoed in the elf's mind as she finally crawled into her bed. And as she drifted to sleep, Faeryl, in a whisper, repeated the answer she had given him, hoping it would be enough.

“I’ll do my best.”

[Judas D'arc]

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" The man possessed a tone that was the perfect blend of manners and mockery. He was a member of the Brotherhood of the Rose, the order of monks that dwelled inside of Empath Abbey, and it was early morning at that very same place that their conversation was occurring.

"Brother Salmon, right?" Judas smiled warmly, attempting to ignore any derision intended by the other man's greetings. He had no time for verbal sparring.

The monk grunted in the affirmative. "And I know who you are, Judas D'arc, or whatever you're calling yourself these days."

"You sound displeased, good brother."

"All are welcome here," Brother Salmon explained, "as long as they don't bring harm. We're not blind to the true nature of some of those visitors you had while staying with us last year. Brother Finlay's gone, and you're no longer a wayward youth. Don't expect us to indulge your indiscretions as he did."

The bard cleared his throat. "If it is not an inconvenience, I was hoping to take a look at your library. There is a certain subject that has recently caught my interest."

"Oh?" The monk seemed almost pleased by this. "Then I'm glad to help. I'd never want to be accused of obstructing another's enlightenment. What's it you seek?"

Judas quickly scanned the area for prying eyes and ears, and then leaned forward. Not a sound emerged; it was the movement of his lips that formed the words.

As the color drained from Brother Salmon, his expression turned indignant. "You -- you dare speak of that?! Here, of all places?!"

"Please," the bard spoke with a surprising sincerity. "There is a woman who has become a threat, not simply to herself, but to others. And I believe that name is the source of her troubles."

For nearly a minute, the monk's attention was lost to silent contemplation. Then he suddenly nodded and beckoned for Judas to follow ...

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

Faeryl’s eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness as she scanned her surroundings for her first target. She moved carefully, isolating each target before attacking. She practiced her blade work not on innocents as her teacher had demanded, but on the creatures that dwelled in the dark, musty caverns that made up the dungeon Shame.

She maneuvered her blade swiftly, a hint of sureness in her movements. Confident against these types of opponents, she let her thoughts stray to several matters that had been causing her some concern. Her first concern being Judas.

She had trusted him with her secret despite her reservations, and he had offered to help her destroy the dagger. However, even with his persistence, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to retrieve it from where it had been hidden. Not long after, Judas had been transformed into a woman, and she had begun to notice a change in how he acted. Instead of helping, he had begun pushing her, teasing. Though he had apologized for his actions, she found herself beginning to doubt the trust she had placed in him.

There was also the issue of the intense desires she had begun to feel when he was near. Although not as strong as before his change to a woman, her sudden physical attraction to Judas made it difficult to focus on anything important that might be said regarding the prophecy… Or anything else for that matter. Especially after the night they had travelled to Terort Skitas where her resolve had finally failed, and she had retrieved the dagger from the depths of the dungeon that lay below…

And then there was Renthar. The strange mage whom she had first met in Terort Skitas had approached her outside of the Salty Dog, and though she hadn’t gone into much detail, he had known that something was troubling her, and he told her so. “You're up to something. Something that weighs heavily upon you. It isolates you from your friends. You Fear it.” His words echoed in her mind, causing her to curse quietly as she missed her mark, narrowly avoiding a blow herself. Still, despite his rather… odd behavior, there was something about him that had piqued her interest. She was curious as to why the others disliked the man so intensely, and whether or not he could be trusted.

She knew that these concerns and others would all be addressed at some point in the future. For now though, she would continue to train in the darkness.

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

She had told him everything. About the dagger… the voices… the murders… her desires. Everything. It had been an act of desperation, turning to him, but she had felt isolated from everyone else. Of the other two that knew of her plight, Judas had become increasingly frustrating to talk to, and Jolicia’s sole concern seemed to be returning Judas to normal. So, despite their repeated warnings, Faeryl had confided in Renthar.

She told him how she had hidden the dagger, and of the night they had travelled to Terort Skitas, how she had been unable to ignore its call any longer, retrieving it from the depths of the dungeon.

“And is hatred all that consumes you? What about deception? Fear? Carnal desires?”

She had been uncomfortable revealing the secret of her lust, but she knew that fighting with the strange mage would get her nowhere. And so, reluctantly, she spoke.

“To some extent, yes.”

“And have you acted on such urges?”

She answered truthfully. She hadn’t acted on her urges, out of respect. But though she had refused to mention a name, Renthar had already figured it out. It was then that he had brought up an idea that had both interested her and made her uneasy.

“Well, lust is lust. Perhaps you need an alternative to the bard.”

The two spoke more, Renthar telling her some of his past, and a little about the man Paine, of whom she knew little beyond his being the father of Alisiea’s child.

“I prefer to be honest. Which is probably why you're confiding in me, elf. While I do enjoy a good lie here and there, I don't pretend to be something I'm not. And what of you? Are you pretending to be something you're not?”

“Maybe I am...”

“Then... I have a proposal for you. I want to witness the real you. The true one.”

“I'm not even sure what the real me is anymore.”

It was then that, much to her surprise, he had offered to help her. Still upset with Judas, she had gratefully taken Renthar up on his offer, her desperation to finally be free overshadowing her logic and the warnings the others had offered her.

“If I help you, what do I get in return? Nothing's for free. And my membership to the Club of Heroes hasn't arrived just yet.”

"I'd do anything to be free of this torture.”

Her comment had interested him, and he began suggesting things, gauging her reaction, and seeing just what she was prepared to do for his help.

“Your body?” At her confused response, he had then elaborated, “I don't mean possession. Or slavery. Would you lie with me, if I aided you?”

She paused to think it over. How bad could it be? It was a simple request, and if it meant her freedom, could she really turn him down?

“Yes…”

“You'd let me have your body then? Abuse it? Humiliate it?”

Her reaction had been that of disbelief. However, he quickly silenced any protest she may have had. With a sigh of defeat, she had answered his question.

“You may have my body, and abuse and humiliate it.”

“I'll help you. And you don't have to give me anything in return.”

“I... What?”

“I'll help you. And you don't even have to do any of those nasty things you offered to.”

She had then given him a rune to her home and they, for the time being, went their seperate ways. What she didn’t realize was just how much trouble she had gotten herself into…

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

She sat alone, gaze fixed on the tabletop, oblivious to the bustle around her. Her mind numbly replayed the events that had transpired only a short time ago. Lost in the frightening memory, Faeryl didn’t realize that anyone had entered the tavern until she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She shook her head to acknowledge their presence, but said nothing as tears began to well up in her eyes.

“Hey, you alright?” She recognized the voice as being Lucas, but she still didn’t speak. “Fae... what's wrong..?”

His tone was gentle and betrayed a concern that made Faeryl feel even guiltier for not having listened to him, or anyone else’s warnings before things had spiraled so far beyond her control. With a bit more gentle coaxing, Lucas finally managed to learn the cause of her distress.

“Renthar.”

No longer able to restrain herself, she wept. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as Judas, who had only just arrived, came over to see what had happened. With both Lucas and Judas comforting her, Faeryl managed a few shaky breaths in an attempt to calm herself, before quietly telling them that she had been alone when he had entered the tavern, and that they had gone to the inn to talk.

“He knows about it Judas. I told him... He said he had an idea to help... Things... escalated.”

~~~~~

“I think complete strangers are best. If it's someone you know, and it's only your lust, you might bruise some feelings. If it's a stranger, you won't have to see them again.”

“I guess you’re right…”

Renthar and Faeryl were in his room at the inn, debating his idea on how to help her with her problem. He had been the one to make the connection between the dagger and her sudden, and rather distracting, attraction to those who offered her aid, and now he wished to know her decision regarding his offer.

“Well ..” He watched her closely as he spoke “If you had to choose someone you knew; who would it be?”

“I guess if I had to choose someone, it would be either Judas... or...” She hesitated for a moment, but under his intense gaze, she finished. “Or… you.”

He seemed rather amused by her admission, asking her why she would choose him. Upon hearing her reply, he turned more sarcastic, causing a flicker of annoyance within the elf. Without thinking, the words flew out of her mouth.

“Or I could just go the other way and kill you.”

Renthar abruptly stood up, quickly closing the distance between them and leaning in close, towering over her and causing what little courage she’d displayed to fade into nothingness.

“Your move...” He had propped his arm against the door, blocking any escape she might have made. “I'd love to see you try. But if you go for a weapon and miss... Just be aware of the consequences.”

They spoke further, Faeryl a little more meekly than before. Renthar continued to loom over her until she gave an answer to his previous question. He once again mentioned her potential, receiving a reply of how she no longer wanted to hear the voices, or deal with emotions that didn’t belong to her.

“There's only one way to do that... Destroy that dagger.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?” While her expression remained neutral, Faeryl’s eyes betrayed the raging wave of emotions that rose up inside her. “Where is it now? Well?”

The uncontrolled emotions drove her to reach for the Assassin Spike at her side, which she drew from its sheath and aimed directly at Renthar.

~~~~~

“So did he try to take it from you tonight?”

“No...” Faeryl glanced over at Judas as she answered him. “He wanted to play a... game.”

“What sort of ... game?”

“The game itself wasn't important... It was the result.”

“So what did you put on the line in this... ‘game’?” Lucas enquired.

She looked between the two in silence, embarrassed by what she’d have to tell them. After a moment, she spoke quietly.

“Can we please talk about this somewhere else?”

The three went downstairs, where Faeryl told them of the dagger’s defense. How it caused her to be attracted to those who tried to help, and how Renthar had known this. She explained the terms of the game, how the winner would get to decide what would occur next.

“I… lost.”

~~~~~

“I win.” He offered her a hand up. “To the victor go the spoils...”

A feeling of unease filled her as a gloved finger trailed slowly down her front. Renthar then reached out, taking ahold of her shoulders as he stared into her eyes.

“What is my victory prize, I wonder? An ear, perhaps? Your body? Your soul?”

“You wouldn't dare...”

“Do you think there's anything I wouldn't dare?” She was suddenly released of his firm grip, and watched coolly as he stepped back. “Take off your clothes. Slowly...”

“No.” Faeryl responded bluntly, crossing her arms in a simple act of defiance.

“I won... That was the terms of the game.” He suddenly snarled at her. “Do it!”

“Those were your terms. I never agreed to them.”

They continued to argue, Renthar threateningly, and Faeryl remaining defiant of his demands.

“Do it... Or I'll do it for you.” He attempted to grab her hands, but she quickly stepped back out of his reach. He stopped and looked at her. “Do you no longer desire my help? Do you no longer desire me?”

“How is this help?” she challenged.

“Don’t question me. If you want my help, you honour the rules of the game.”

“And if I don’t…?

“Then my offer of help is withdrawn.” He looked back at her and grinned. “And I might forget that which you told me...Which was in confidence, and which is public knowledge.”

“You wouldn’t…”

~~~~~

“He knew I'd do what he wanted...”

“What did you...?” Judas stared at her. “Did you...?”

Realizing what was meant, Faeryl shook her head. Her gaze travelled between her two friends as she contemplated how much to tell them of what had transpired. In the end, she settled for a vague response.

“He humiliated me, but no....”

~~~~~

“Tick tock.”

Renthar leaned against the wall, watching her intently as Faeryl, defeated, did as he demanded.

“I can't believe I'm doing this...”

“Then you shouldn't have lost... Continue.”

She finished with a dejected sigh and remained still as he slowly approached, fixing his eyes on hers.

“How does it feel to lose?”

“I hate it.” She responded as she watched him slowly remove his gloves, his hand moving to trace a finger along her cheek.

“Why do you think I win?” He asked her curiously.

“Because you were stronger...” He shook his head at her answer.

“Because I have purpose. I have focus. There is no good or evil, little elf.” His finger trailed slowly down her neck as he spoke, “There's only control.” His hands gripped her shoulders gently, but firmly. “You have none.” She remained silent as he leaned forward, still speaking, “Not your anger, your desires. Not with old Astaroth. And not with me.”

He continued to tease her lust, asking questions that made her uncomfortable, frightened. She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes as she became more afraid and confused. She felt Renthar’s grip tighten on her shoulders, causing her to wince in pain as he taunted her.

“Maybe you like having no control... Maybe you enjoy your weakness. Maybe you want big, bad Renthar to tell you how it'll be.” He grinned at her, pressing himself against her, driving her desire to the breaking point. He spoke his next words quietly. “Tell me you want me.”

It took Faeryl a moment to summon her voice, and when she could finally speak it was small and faint. Barely a whisper. “I… want…”

“Say it!” He hissed at her.

“I want… you.”

Renthar abruptly let go and stepped away from her. The sudden loss of contact caused Faeryl to whimper pitifully as he spoke again while putting his gloves back on.

“When you want something... You take it. Get dressed.”

Distraught and utterly humiliated, she did as she was told. She kept silent and her gaze low as she listened to him talk.

“Control, Faeryl. Control. If you want it... Me, Lucas, The drunken bard, Freedom from Astaroth. You take it. Otherwise you are weak.”

~~~~~

“You know... Before this... I did do some research to help you.” Faeryl wiped at her tears, listening with curiosity. “I think I do have an idea.”

“You do…?” She looked at Judas in mild surprise.

“What is the one place that Astaroth would be powerless?”

“I don’t know…” She answered honestly, unsure where such a being could possibly be powerless. Judas began to explain.

“Empath Abbey. That is where the flame of love is. Hatred has no power in that place.”

“To bring such a thing there... The Monks wouldn't stand for that... would they?”

“No… No… We bring Faeryl there and see if it still influences her. Perhaps she would be more inclined to... let us take it from her. Let us know where it is.”

Faeryl’s gaze travelled between the two as they spoke. It was an idea, and it made sense… The worst that could happen was nothing, so why not?

"If you… want?" Judas turned to her.

“It’s worth a shot.”

[Samael Wolfwood]

Lucas sat by the fire silently staring into the dancing embers. His mind pondered on the night before. Though he knew the dangers of what he had offered, He knew that it was in his nature to sacrifice for others. In her eyes he had seen suffering, Those eyes which he found himself lost in quite easily.

He would help her, No matter what happened to him in the process. He knew little of magic, But he knew much about Hatred.

"I no longer feel safe there anymore..."

"Then come stay with me, I don't mind crashing on the loveseat"

He had made the offer, he knew that at this point there was no turning back from his decision. He could not see her like that anymore. The embers in the fire popped, bringing him back to the present. With a heavy sigh he raised up from the loveseat and began to pickup what little clutter still laid about the house.

He knew his first bit of studying had to be that of The Shadowlords, of the one known as Astaroth. The embodiment of Hatred, a subject Lucas felt to be an expert on.

"I suppose the only thing I fear.... is that I may agree with anything I find out.....Either way this is my life.. not hers. I will find out how to end this...." Lucas spoke as he looked at himself in the vanity mirror.

He finished packing away the clutter in his almost empty home.

"I should really get some more furniture... if I am to have a lady staying here...." he sighed with a small chuckle...

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

“I’ll be right beside you if you need anything.”

His words and presence had brought back the sense of security that Faeryl had lost long ago. They echoed reassuringly in her mind as she slowly drifted into what could have been her first truly restful slumber in months. But then she started to dream.

~~~~~

She was sitting in a tavern filled with revelers and drunks. Prostitutes solicited those who appeared to have some wealth or at least some money to spare. She was alone. Deep in thought. Filled with misgivings. As she glanced around she noticed, sitting across the room from her, a woman of unparalleled beauty. She too was sitting alone. She was watching her. A slight, yet friendly smile creased her lips. Her eyes were the color of emeralds and her hair was silver-white. She was Elvin and from her clothing and stature she was wealthy, perhaps even of noble blood. She nodded to Faeryl as if in recognition, but she could not place her. Perhaps they had met long ago in passing, but the memory was lost. Dropping her gaze to the table Faeryl noticed a ring of great quality upon her hand. Far more valuable than anything she could remember possessing, yet the feeling of ownership was unquestioned.

Suddenly, the door to the tavern was flung open and a great gust of wind shoved leaves and other debris into the tavern from the street beyond. All conversation ceased as the patrons turned their attention to the open door. A moment of apprehension passed and then, without the slightest hesitation a young girl entered the tavern. She could not have been more than ten or twelve years of age, yet her bearing denoted great experience and knowledge. She was dressed as the Gypsies dress and her hair was the color of summer wine. The patrons in the tavern bowed low and moved aside to allow her room to enter as a feeling of fear and dread swept the room. Glancing up Faeryl noticed the woman with the silver-white hair was standing. Her eyes were fixed upon Faeryl as she pointed her out. The young gypsy girl turned towards her, smiled and beckoned her to follow.

“Come. There is much to be done yet.” She said as she turned and moved towards the open door. The Elvin woman with the silver-white hair waited to accompany Faeryl as she rose and followed the gypsy girl out into the darkness beyond.

~~~~~

Faeryl awoke with a start and looked around the dark room blearily, her exhausted mind taking a moment to recall where she was. Turning her head slightly, she gazed at the man sleeping beside her, a soft smile gracing her lips, though it was soon replaced by a small frown as she contemplated the dream that had woken her. It had seemed so… real. Slowly she slipped out of the bed, being careful to not disturb Lucas, then quietly padded across the room and started searching for something in her bag.

A few minutes later she emerged onto the balcony carrying a small soft leather journal and a pen. Stifling a yawn, Faeryl sat down on the bench and began to jot down notes. She wasn’t sure if the dream held any significance or not, but if it did prove to be important for some reason, at least she’d have something to reference later on.

Once finished, she set the journal aside and leaned back, listening to the water, watching the stars and letting her thoughts wander. Minutes ticked by, passing into hours, but it was as the first faint traces of morning crept over the horizon that Faeryl finally rose off the bench and went back inside. Having slipped her journal into her bag, she crawled back into bed, seeking the comfort of Lucas’ presence to help her finally drift into a restless sleep.

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

Sleep. All she wanted was to sleep. The whispers in her mind had started growing louder and more adamant. They would not let her rest. Not since she had had that dream…

Instead of returning to Lucas’ home, she had been wandering the forests of Trammel for nearly two days. She stumbled forward, her tired body no longer able to support her. Falling to her knees in the cool detritus of the forest, Faeryl wearily crawled over to the nearest oak and slumping defeated against its thick trunk, burst into tears. She was broken. Her strength of will, once solid as stone, had slowly and surely been eroded away by the unrelenting waves of Hatred that now surged unchallenged through her mind.

She could feel the darkness enveloping her mind, twisting her thoughts and desires just like it had years ago, but she didn’t care. Mentally, physically… She was too tired to fight it anymore. As Astaroth reinforced his control over her, all she wanted was to sleep. Sleep, and dream.

~~~~~

Faeryl was in the Heartwood, in a time when the world was young and the Elves were the Firstborn and lived in harmony with all creatures. The colors around her were more vivid and intense than those of the human world. So vivid as to hurt her eyes. Fairies and other winged creatures hummed and buzzed around her as she walked along a path of gilded leaves. She followed the path until it came to a grove of massive trees. This was the ancient Heartwood. Home to the King of Elves. As she entered the grove she found a dais made of solid gold and upon that dais sat a golden throne and upon that throne sat the King. He beckoned her to approach and as she did Faeryl noticed the silver-haired Elvin woman standing next to the King. She was whispering in his ear as she approached. Kneeling before the King she heard herself say.

“How may I serve you My Liege?”

The King smiled down upon her before speaking.

“I am `Elthorin, King of all Elvin kind and ruler over the Heartwood. There is a great evil about in the land. Yet, as strong as this evil has become, it is weak compared to that which is yet to follow. This greater evil is a threat to the human world but is even more a threat to our people and it must be stopped. It is prophesied that a girl-child, a sorceress of great power, shall be born. This child will defeat the coming evil. Although she is here, she is yet to be born. The mother of this child is in grave danger. She is surrounded by those who cannot be trusted. They plot, scheme, and are in league with the evil that roams over the land preparing the way for the greater evil yet to come. They must be destroyed so the girl-child can be born and fulfill her destiny. It falls to you, Faeryl of the Heartwood, to destroy those who surround the mother. You have been given a weapon for this purpose. Use it wisely. Destroy those around her and you will be known forever more as “Hero.”

~~~~~

The last light of day was just fading over the horizon when Faeryl finally awoke, refreshed and with one goal in mind. A small malicious smile flitted across her lips as she spoke softly to the gathering darkness…

“Kill them! Kill them all!”

[Faeryl Tyr'athem]

“I am sorry about this Fae... for more reasons than one... But I think... this might help you.”

She reacted purely out of instinct, using all her strength to pull the blade away before it pierced its intended target. Both Hatred and her dreams had demanded she kill, but listening to him speak as he guided her dagger to his side, something stronger stayed her hand. Despite the violent orders ringing in her mind, she couldn’t bring herself to cause him harm.

Faeryl backed away, shaking uncontrollably. She could feel the dagger slip from her hand as Lucas approached and embraced her tightly. His embrace acted as both a comfort as he spoke softly to her and as a restraint when Judas and Jolicia exited the Salty Dog, for though she refused to let herself harm Lucas, in her current state of mind she still posed a threat to the others.

“Gate to Yew anybody...?”

A gate was summoned without question. Still holding onto her tightly, Lucas carefully led Faeryl through the gate and into the Abbey in Yew. The voices began to fade immediately after she arrived in the Abbey, and it wasn’t long before they disappeared completely, leaving an almost eerie silence in Faeryl’s mind. Their plan had worked, but it wouldn’t be effective for the long term, as Lucas pointed out.

She told them that the glass dagger at her house, but only accessible to her, and they promised to return the next night to come up with a of plan to help her. For the time being though, Faeryl found herself confined within the walls of the Empath Abbey. The one place where Hatred had no power over her.