Kire glanced as he worked at building a fire. At his question, she let out a long breath and stared out at the desert. Her scarred eye twitched, and she brushed away a phantom pain. “He had been looking for the one who would inherit this power that I have. It’s—hard to explain, I hardly understand it myself.” She crossed her legs, lacing her fingers together, moved them absently to watch the Ring glint dully in the dim light. “He offered help. Guidance. But he had been working at his own schemes behind my back. Using me, my influence, my connections. And, finally, he sprung his trap and tried to violate me with his blood magic. He became—fixated.” She hadn’t realized she had clenched both fists. 

“He’s gone mad. He’s always wanted to remake the world to bend to his whims. Me included. Like I’m both the thing he loves and hates the most, because I have the power he’s been wanting to have, and I don’t answer to him. I tried going after him, but—” [i]I lost my home. My family had been driven out. And now my country is overrun by monsters.[/i] “—I was…distracted. Rather, turns out chasing [i]him[/i] had been a distraction for an even greater problem. Half a year ago. So, let’s just say I owe him for the deaths he had inflicted and the battles I’ve lost these last six months.” 

She found a pebble and threw it across the oasis as far as she could, landing on the opposite side. “He’s been trying to mold my face onto his sick creations. His little…passion project. He’d never been successful—he nearly was.” She remembered her abdomen, spilling blood, even as she tried to fight her way through the dolls, all bearing a misshapen version of her reflection. “I’m trying to tie up the loose ends of my failure, is all.” 

He probably didn’t care for her sob story, but Kire didn’t mind. It was almost refreshing, having to tell the story to somebody who had no inkling what in the seven hells she was talking about.