---

She rode the Solar Steed when she became weary after walking, comfortable even without the cushioning of a saddle.

The Rat of Remembrance was swift, always ahead of them and acting as an assuring sight to she whom had no name.

She sought her memories, those scattered fragments of her mind that she forsook. An abandoned aspect.
Hanging above her always, haunting her journey.

"My chest hurts." She said, yet they continued without halting. Her heart contained within was confusing her, indeed, confusion was a common occurrence for her now. She was without a home, though the companionship of the two spirits alleviated some of her sorrow. How she would not have survived without them was a worrying thought. Why were they helping her? Where did they come from?

Her stomach spoke angrily, and she realized she was hungry.

Without warning, an apple fell upon her head and rolled to afore her eyes, allowing her to catch the culprit.

"A falling fruit?" She asked aloud, annoyed and confused.

The Rat of Remembrance answered: "A blessing from your family, I think."

She ate in appreciative silence afterwards, contemplating the tasty boon. She wished her friend would tell her more.

When it rained, she sought shelter. She forged a fire, collecting charred skulls from a forlorn field that burned with ease for whatever reason. She would not complain since she would remain warm. She slept peacefully too, dreaming about the day she had her memories back.

She had begun to bury the dead that she discovered. There were many. Thousands upon thousands.

"Ea Nebel shall show these souls to the Path of the Dead." The Rat of Remembrance stated after the tenth funeral.

She buried another ten or so before her hand bled too much, and she stepped away.

She had honored such a meager amount. Why was war so swift to claim so much of creation? Why was she so weak?

"Do you think you are weak? Is that what we should call you?" The Solar Steed inquired.

Weak. It was not the name she desired. She did not know what name she desired. Desire seemed so strange to her.

"I'm going to call you Kyoko." The Rat of Remembrance chimed cheerfully, and continued onwards.

"Kyoko..." She said to herself, having a name now and happy.

---

"You have changed. The color blue was to be expected, I suppose." Pride said to her secluded sister.

Fear smiled. She smiled because she wanted to be brave. Those memories. She still mourned, and separated her mind from her sisters that had been saved from the ravaging touch of time. Reborn. Now she seemed to be reborn as well.

A strange ritual she found difficult to describe. She struggled to understand her feelings as well.

"I said I'd keep going..." The cerulean champion replied softly to the small Keeper of Keltra, staring at the skies above. The two of them stood upon the outer wall of their home, where winds gently brushed against them. There were clouds too.

"You should rest. She would surely say the same, and we're both aware that's true." Pride pointedly remarked. She peered at her sister, discerning all the differences in her appearance now. While the rest of their sisters were similar to their mother, Fear wore an alternate attire, and her features were blue instead of red.

The Archai that served them had begun calling Fear; the Blue-Bird Princess.

"When will Harmony restore their memories?" Fear asked, and Pride shook with agitation.

"Would you want to show them that?" The Keeper of Keltra inquired in an irritated tone, sighing afterwards. "Mother is speaking with another deity at the moment. Her spell is meant to separate us, but she's waning in strength. Something is happening in the world she wove and abandoned."

"Desire?" Fear asked, again seeking an answer. She wondered where her sister had wandered off to.

"Desire, of course." Pride muttered.

---

With a loud sigh, Ashevelen looked as the shadow ball that transported the now mortal Desire disappeared in the horizon. Where? She didn’t know herself. Cutting ties fully with it and letting it land wherever. Desire’s destiny was now in her own hands. That is, if her mother won’t track her down and kill her either way.

It was time for actual work now. Teleporting herself back to the Shadow Bazaar, Ashevelen transmitted a message to all of her sentient creations, everywhere. It was a simple command.

Shadow Bazaar. NOW.

In a matter of minutes, all the Umbra, Coin Fairies, Beholders and species in between, within the world appeared in the Shadow Bazaar. One by one they appeared in a newly created room that was large enough to fit everyone. Some were hopeful, maybe it was time for them to learn something new, get a divine gift, but the others, all others, were afraid. The fear was palpable. A lesser divine might’ve drowned in the concentrated feeling of dread.

“Creations of mine. Some of you have been created by my will, others have been evolved or created by my siblings but know you are all mine. Something is coming for the world. Something that even I can't stop but I've got a plan. So, I'm giving you one command. When you leave the Bazaar, don't return home 'for it won't be there anymore. Go to the Umbral Forest. You'll know when it's clear for you to return. For now, stay here. Food, drinks and entertainment will be for now…free of charge. " said Ashevelen, her voice strong and clear. They would die if they didn't listen to her.

Before anyone could say anything, tables with food, drinks and musicians appeared. In the commotion, the Lady disappeared. Appearing above the Umbral Forest, she focused her power, transmission. With a loud shout, the whole territory vanished and reappeared thousands of km up in the air and before it could start falling, a bubble appeared around it. Keeping the whole territory afloat.

“Ashevelen, I would speak with you…”

Familiar and foreboding - the voice of Anath Homura reached her from afar, and beckoned. Then the taste of Transmission was abruptly all around again and precisely woven through the air along the wandering winds, as a portal of another opened afore her. An almost deficient invitation for a deity, yet definitely perspicuous.

At very high speeds, Ashevelen crossed the Umbra Forest, checking every square inch of the forest for imperfections or potential dangers. After doing that twice, she stopped and waved her hands once more. Buildings made of wood, stone and different already discovered metals started to construct themselves. Shelters, homes, barracks everything that a new city would require to support the massively increased population. Yet before the job was completed, Anath’s voice could be heard.

The powers of Transmission flared around Ashevelen and she shook her head. Anath was wielding the powers nicely but it lacked a certain something, a charm to how they’re applied. Either way, this was the moment that Ashe knew would come sooner or later. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the portal created by Anath but not before throwing hundreds of coins around the forest. Each to be used as teleportation coins, same as the one she gave to Penumbra.

Through the calling portal - a colossal chamber; circular and commanding of the attention via complex architecture, all adorned with glittering gemstones and a myriad of mosaics sculpted and set in an infinite stretch across every aspect of the edifice, silently awaited Ashevelen. The designs and artistic features almost sought to speak aloud, yet an unyielding presence administered a state of suppressed quietude.

The Creatrix herself - seated upon a throne a short distance away, thematically similar to the splendor and awe-inspiring sights of the chamber the two of them stood within - stared at Ashevelen with her single ruby-red eye, solemn and salient. An aura of sorrow and isolation surrounded the scarlet goddess, as aside from Ashevelen, she seemed to be the only denizen of this ornate domain, and Anath Homura had remained reticent regarding whether she should be approached.

Ashevelen looked around, fully ignoring the Creatrix, at the chamber she was in with a collector's eye. The design of the room was being written in the records of the Bazaar in real time as she gazed upon every inch of the room and the throne.

With a snap of Ashevelen's fingers, music started to be heard from within her. A violin song, calm and soothing. She walked towards the Creatrix and bowed low at her presence before taking out an immaculate mirror from the shadow of her robes. A reminder of their first interaction, yet this one was even more extravagant than the other one.

"Anath. Greetings! Love what you've done with the place. It could use more pizaah and I could offer some designs if you wish to improve but nonetheless, it's a fine job. Please accept this gift. " said Ashevelen, her voice charming as she held the mirror in her hands, in the direction of the Creatix.

“Be welcome, Ashevelen, and your gift is accepted.” Anath Homura announced from her seat, and then stood. Her short stature and almost simplistic serenity contrasted with the complexity and always shifting-shapes of their surroundings, as though the Creatrix did not belong in this beautiful chamber she had carved and sculpted herself. Her voice and visage indicated no ill intent, yet something insidious suffused the sound of her speech, similar to how the sight of smoke viewed from afar was suggestive of a vehement flame.

The White-Rose, which seemingly replaced her second ruby-eye sometime ago, resonated with weird energies, as though weaving a wayward tapestry together that would form upon the face of Anath Homura. Soon numerous veins of vile black, akin to ichor or oil, spread across the skin around the strange flower, resembling roots traversing the soil. There were no words of worry from the cosmic conjurer as these concerning changes occurred - she simply spoke, continuing to stay where she stood afore her throne.

“Your adherence to Honor shall suffice. However, are you aware of why we are having this appointment?”

"We both know that honor is subjective, Anath and I never lie. A trader is only as good as their word after all. But to answer your question. I am assuming you've asked for me because I made a trade? Is that not what you've asked of your divine siblings when you've called to us? Come here and do what we know best. "

“Your diligence towards the acts of creation and cultivation have been beheld, Ashevelen. You shall be awarded for your achievements as well. I hereby bequeath to you, a set of sanguine dice, fashioned from your younger blood.”

Anath Homura held up her hand and gestured, as a set of dice appeared afore the grim goddess and then gently hovered towards Ashevelen. A reminiscent shimmer was reflected in her ruby-eye, along with an orb of golden light which changed not into a woman, but a whimsical child sharing a serendipitous smile. The subtle sight faded swifty, and the familiar form of Ashevelen appeared in the eye of Anath Homura.

“Ahh… I have never been fond of gambling, or luck, yet I am averse to the actions of Yudaiel as well - ever a source of troubles within my realm. Hmm… Perhaps my punishments were too lenient, or perhaps I could have been more persuasive. I digress, those deaths all hang in the past.”

Ashevelen grabbed the pair of dice and bowed low. Head hanging low in gratitude. Her merchant self was already thinking of a way to have it sold if needed.

“ Luck is made by oneself by negotiating with destiny itself. Unless one is divine, and then we can make our own luck. There’s no such thing as a lenient punishment I found within my own mortals. Punish them hard, they’ll grumble and eventually end up making you destroy them. Be too lenient and they’ll abandon you. I found that it’s better to find a balance between them and of course, make them believe that they can work for your forgiveness not because they fear “the stick” but in exchange of great riches or whatever motivates them. ” replied Ashevelen with another curtsy before looking directly into Anath’s eye with a determined look. Her whole stance changed on the spot. No longer a courtier playing nice but a divine meeting another. A merchant meeting a client.

“Now, I am sure you’ve got other stuff to do than exchanging pleasantries with me. Tell me, what trade do you wish to make? What information do you require? ”

“You presume much, Ashevelen. Hmm… I am seeking my wayward daughter - and pleasantries aside - tell me; have you seen her, my twisted and adrift Desire?” Anath Homura asked, her comportment unchanged and concealing any ultimate umbrage underneath. The dichotomy of her divine stillness and the indefinite shifting of their surroundings was a stark contrast that would shatter the senses of a more meager creature.

Of course that's why she was here. It was quite surprising it took so long to be summoned. Lying to a goddess of such rank would be…detrimental for one's health. As such, Ashevelen did what she knew best. Tell her the truth.

"I only presume what I know for a fact, most of the time. The other times I'm simply following my calling. Trading is, after all, a game of presumption among other things. But, to answer your question, yes. I did see your wayward daughter a few times since you called us here. She was most recently being chaperoned by my champion. " said Ashevelen, talking fast.

“She has gone astray, fleeing from her family. I shall absolutely not allow such to persist, proliferating the profane path. You say neither leniency nor admonishment is an answer, and speak of rewards and motivation. She defies my decree, and shuns me… as though she seeks to attain my anger.” The scarlet goddess spoke with a serene intonation, yet something subtle, insidious, seemed to suffuse her voice.

Those vile veins of oil which spread around the roots of the White-Flower that resembled scars, akin to cracks and crevices across her skin, revealing secrets behind the boundaries of flesh, surged and receded in repetition. Wherein Keltra was whirling swiftly in a silent symphony of endless mesmerizing motion, as the Creatrix stayed completely stationary, the embodiment of equilibrium, those sinister scars seemed to embody a strange aspect of existence - abstruse and alien…

“Desire belongs to me. She is my child, my creation, my… I must bring her back home. She cannot choose to sell herself, or pay the price of freedom. I forbid such. Ashevelen, your arrangement with her; why would you act against me?”

An inquisitive look rested on Ashevelen’s face. Maybe she acted in Desire's favor but it was not against Anath. Though it made sense for her to see it that way.

"She was your child. She had a path. She isn't that anymore. As such, her path is her own. As much as you push your child, that's how much the child will push against you. Desire had enough free will to make a trade for me. It wasn't against you. It was just business from my perspective. " replied Ashevelen before making a pause, letting the words sink in before continuing "You're saying she cannot pay the price. Yet she did and it was a good one. More than happy to offer you the paperwork for the trade but I can assure you, I could've pressed my point even more and earned even more but let's say I go sentimental. As such, I have not acted against you. I simply have acted as one in my position would. A deal is a deal after and what she offered, made it a bargain. " she added while a scroll would appear next to Ashe, nicely folded.

“Hmm… why does this merchant remain in my world, mentioning contracts with children and motivation. Twice you have given me a mirror as a gift, thus I should be benevolent despite the displacement of my daughter, or perhaps my perspective of events is erroneous.” With a calm and composed aura, the Creatrix returned to being seated upon her jeweled throne as she contemplated.

“What do you seek, Lady of Swift Trade and Shadow? Independence seems insufficient… So what is your wish?”

"What do I wish for? Good deals, of course. What can any trader wish for? I've seen countless worlds, I've created my own, destroyed a few. I only wish for one thing. The excitement of a good trade. Maybe in a few eons I'll find a mortal able to best me in a match of wits and out trade me. But short term? I find myself wanting to say nothing but let's just say…a favor to be called by me in the next eon. Nothing major for a divine being such as yourself. " answered the divine with a smile and a laugh. Before becoming serious once more.

"I've only given you what you asked for. A way to see your family. That was your first wish. The mirror you've received now is different from the first. Look inside it, cast your gaze and see yourself. Your true self. The one you hide from all. The one you hide to yourself. It's a mirror of self-truth.

As for your daughter, your daughter is alive and well. She hasn't found her way to the Bazaar. I only gave her what she asked for. If you wish to find her, look in the mirror after I leave. See your true self then ask yourself, was she right to run? Was she right to renounce the divine gift? If you won't know for sure, then I was right and I made a very good deal and gained some divine essence in the process too. "

“A favor…” Anath Homura mused aloud, and examined the exquisite mirror with another enigmatic expression, a cryptic scrutiny consorting alongside abstract confusion. Another reflection appeared in her ruby-eye; a fractal image of Anath Homura surrounded by several simulacrums with slight variations, such as the return of her second eye - one with an emerald eye was evidently Desire. Amidst the congregation was a child that shared some resemblance to the Creatrix and her clones, with a pink aesthetic instead of crimson and scarlet.

The image of the Anath Homura also had a happier countenance compared to the actual being before Ashevelen, whom was much more akin to an apparition that haunted this heavenly hall. What she wanted; her wish, finding her family, and an attempt to conceal that yearning within, the craving to be whole-hearted, was futile… she silently considered whether to stare at what the mirror would show or to shatter such an artifact swiftly.

As Anath uttered the word favor, a piece of paper appeared before her.

“You just need to give me your word. Nothing more, nothing less. It will appear on the paper and bind you to your promise of a favor and will bind me as well to ask for a favor that won’t cause you harm or anything that I wouldn’t be able to do myself if I would have the time. I require nothing more than what’s easily doable. ” said Ashevelen in a calm tone.

“My honor is more absolute than any manifestation of our agreement you can conjure. A favor I could give freely, without you asking for a frivolous piece of paper to force me to abide by a promise. I shall see whether you have wrought my wrath, or offered an auspicious opportunity.” Anath Homura announced with a hint of annoyance, her words altered when written, and agreed to the terms set by Ashevelen with a formal small signature added to complete her side of the pact.

“No offense, Creatrix but honor means nothing to me. It’s all a matter of perspective after all. What’s honorable for me, might not be honorable for you. The “piece of paper” as you call it is a contract. It is not necessarily to force you to abide by a promise but to force me as well not to ask for something that you shouldn’t give. It offers security for both sides. As for your wrath, as I said, I see no reason to have wrought it. I did, after all, what you wished me to do. ”

There was a wrongness to the way Anath Homura held herself, as though whatever animated her had become broken and baleful. Slowly, she shut her solitary eye and sighed, then winced and trembled. The vile veins from the White-Flower abruptly spread across her entire shape, adorning her skin, her attire, and subtly suffusing her aura. She struggled to speak, almost opening her sole eye as the words barely escaped the prison within. “Forgive me for my mention of wrath… my weariness has worsened and allows them to affect my actions.”

The Creatrix swayed and sagged as she sat upon her throne, staring at Ashevelen. “I asked why you remain in this world as well… and require your answer. Do you believe you will find what you seek?” She said feebly, while her hesitant hand reached towards the immaculate mirror.

“Nothing to be apologized for, Creatrix. I’ve noticed that even beings sure as yourself are susceptible to feelings our mortals have. Seen many divines trading their divinity away in exchange for death, others took the matters in their own hands and went to the Hounds as they were known by a tribe of demi-divines I lived with once. The Hounds are divine eats, they live and breathe to consume divine essence. I ask that you don’t follow into their footsteps. Take a break. I could make some ambrosia out of Desire’s divine essence if you’ve got something better to exchange it with. Secret recipe by yours truly. ” said Ashe with a diplomatic smile and yet another bow of deference.

“As for your question….I don’t know. I have no reason for staying here when so many of our siblings left. Maybe I find it interesting, maybe I’m waiting for a better opportunity. If I find a reason to leave, you’ll be the first to know. ”

Anath Homura shifted slightly; acute attention and searing-sight turning away from Ashevelen as she contemplated again - her hand upon the mirror. Then the composition of the cosmos shivered, their surroundings seeking to subvert the tremendous cage of conventional thought, the presence of the Creatrix this close providing such potential. She simply sighed - another adjustment to herself upon her throne, and supplied a second solemn look.

“I shall shape this land, bringing beauty and art about… but could we coexist? Conflict and calamity almost certainly awaits… a choice.” She proclaimed.

"I know. Your daughter provided me with some information and the rest I figured out on my own. I've taken precautions to keep my creations safe. All of them. Yet, it is not me whom you should ask if we can coexist. The Goddess, Oa. Her existence is a threat for all life. Yourself included. " said Ashe, her voice grave as she summoned a coin in her hand and gently made it float to Anath.

"All my conversations with her. All the information my spies gathered. All the interactions my creations have had with all. All is stored on that coin. Just focus on it while holding it and it'll be yours. "

“Ah, Oa’qeisskesi. I have found her acts amusing…” An upheld hand; then the drifting coin danced and fluttered amidst the fingers of the focused deity, as Anath Homura mused again. “I shall summon and speak with her as well, asking the same… whether this world could be shared between all of us.”

"They are the acts of a child that received divinity far from when they should. Yet…those actions are endangering my prospects. I don't say no to wars from time to time but her way is of constant war. I've managed to trick her, for now, in signing a pact with me. Herself and her subjects may never cause harm of any type to my plans. A very vague pact which doesn't have a time limit. Alas, any pact can be broken given enough time. "

Another set of arms appeared; sprouting from behind the shoulders of Anath Homura like scarlet limbs, birthed behind her body still seeping blood with newly formed flesh. Swiftly, skin materialized, and silky strands wrapped around each arm, shifting into elegant sleeves, slightly ethereal - enough to still see the slender limbs shrouded beneath. The Creatrix then held the Mirror of Self-Seeing and the Coin of Input, in her higher arms, as she lay her lower arms upon her lap and languidly folded her hands together.

“You are excused for now, Ashevelen. Continue conducting yourself as you have… and I shall care for the children.”

"Very well, Creatrix. I shall take my leave. My mortals have caused troubles again. That's what I get for putting all the different types of mortals in one spot. " replied Ashe, a portal appearing behind her but before she stepped in, she turned her head and smiled at the Creatrix.

"Your new body suits you. Don't use it against our kin. You'll find that we're very resourceful if needed. " warned Ashe as she went in and disappeared.

---

What was it like to be alive? She knew she hadn't really ever lived, thus, she was just a dead thing that walked. That went through the motions everyday. Light the forge. Work the metal. Hammer. Hammer. Hammer. Hammer. On and on until the coals died and she was let alone to her nightmares. Day after day. Year after year. On and on forevermore. Still the question haunted her.

The young grew old before her eyes. They could never last like she. Could not endure the test of time. Yet they were always replaced. Something she could not do. The cyclical nature of such life was never lost on her. She knew it only stuck out because there was little else to notice. She had been sold so long ago into bondage that she could only keep track of time through faces. Master after master used her for what they saw fit. Maid. Tailor. Farmhand. Scarecrow. Laborer. Puppet. Monster. Smith. Some masters had been kind, whilst many others had not. They were of humanity, of elvish, of centaur descent and a few others. It didn't matter what they were, they were all alike.

Despite any uncanny characteristics. Despite the lack of legs or multiple. Horns and fur and teeth and claws. All had flesh in some form and blood that kept their hearts beating. They were greedy and cruel and took and took and took. She was only a tool to them. A dead tool, yet still useful.

And she hated them.

It had been an emotion she came to know most. A companion that kept her husk working. She had been afraid to use it at first, in fact fear and confusion had been her only friends until it grew inside of her like a roaring inferno. No longer able to be contained.

So she had used it. To run away but always to fail. To revolt with the ones she hated less but always to be crushed in the end. Ingenuity was a common trait among those of flesh. She should have been killed for all her transgressions, if it wasn't for one simple fact- She was unique enough to keep working. The punishments still came though and her last failed attempt, so close it had been, had gotten her locked away in a dark windowless pit for what felt like an age. She didn't even want to think about it and so when she was at last let out, the fire had subsided. The hate burned only as coals. She was beaten. And now, chained and collared, stripped of any dignity and pride, Ema labored ever on.

She had been taught the basics of smithing but she was never allowed to work on anything. She was simply a hammer to stretch the metal, bend and shape it. It was a pitiful sight. She had at one point in time been meant for more. To bring life to her people but now the thought ached inside. She could not ever do so, for they would use her children as slaves forever and all would be lost. She would take such secrets to the grave, if she had been strong enough to kill herself. But in the end, Ema knew she was incapable of doing that.

She was a dead thing but even dead things could cling to life.

---

Drums sounded outside. They grew closer, growing louder with intensity before they passed the smithy in an exhilarating chorus of harmony. Crowds poured out onto the street to watch them go by at the head of a grand army. There were cheers and shouts from the citizens. Praises and blessings to the silver and red clad troops.

The soldiers stood proud as they marched in their rows, carrying arms built for bloodshed. Pikes and spears. Swords and shields. Bows and arrows. Footmen, archers, knights upon their fine steads. Special units of martial artists donning cloaks and their animalistic tendencies. Magicians and healers and all other sorts.

Yet the crowds hushed as the greatest spectacle marched by, singing loudly in some exotic tongue. Centaurs, men and women alike, donned in full plate armor, carrying mighty weapons. Centaurs, proud and arrogant as always. She hated them the most of all as she watched them go by from the shadow of the smithy. Following them were conscript upon concript. Normal folk who had to fight when they had no reason to do so. Maybe some sought glory and fame. To be seen by some knight in a moment of valor but most were just farmers.

And at last following them were more soldiers, no doubt keeping watch for deserters and at last, the lords and their banners. Why they didn't ride at the front of their grand army was anyone's guess but that's how it usually went in the end. Dressed up for pomp and circumstance. Valuing their own lives over any other. With them gone and caravans of supplies and equipment going by, the crowds dispersed and life continued on.

She kept hammering as the master wanted. An old fellow by the name of Darin. He was of some elvish descent but too hairy to be anything like an elf. He had an aura of luck around him and only came into ownership of Ema by winning a gamble. He treated her like a tool however and was generally indifferent as long as she did what she was told. His other hands were mostly apprentices and another slave that stored equipment in the back, his name was Manna and they did not speak to one another.

There came the sound of hoofprints and a moment later an elf entered the shop, wearing common garb with slicked back hair.

"Darin you old fool, how have you been!" He said cheerfully.

Darin laughed and ran to give the man a fierce hug. "Brylin, if it isn't the dracken himself come to visit! How long has it been? A decade? What have you gotten yourself into nowadays?" It was the most animated she had seen the man. Why was that? Why did this Brylin evoke such emotion? When she looked at the elf, she found that he was glancing back at her.

But he smiled and looked back at Darin. "Oh you know. This and that. Now of late I've been having to follow these armies around and lend them smith's who know a thing or two. When I'd heard you set up shop here I was positively delighted. Speaking of lending, say, I do have a business proposition for you."

"Oh is that so? Well let's talk some more and catch up, it's been too long." And with that the two men wandered off and out. Ema was perplexed to say the least but focused back on her task.

It was a few hours later that they came back and Darin did not look so happy anymore. Indeed, he walked over to Ema and mumbled, taking the shackles around her wrists and placing a key within them. There was a clink and they fell to the floor. Ema froze, what was happening now?

"Well ironheart," Darin called her, "I'm no longer your master. You've been bought and I must say, for a very considerable sum from dear Master Brylin. You've been a good slave I shall say." Another clink and the shackles around her ankles fell as well. The man grumbled as he stood and undid the chain that was latched to the forge. The one that connected her neck shackle. He gave it a yank and it came free but the shackle remained. He coiled the chain up and then handed it to Brylin. Her new master looked smug and his eyes were fixated on her. With an almost lustful glee.

"Banged and bruised, a little rusted too. Far too many cuts and scrapes and dents. Poor thing. Well not to worry. You'll be in good hands now." The elf smiled and Ema did not feel at ease. In fact, she was terrified and she didn't know why.

---

She stood staring at the sight of civilization from afar, watching while the massive arrangement of warriors with a wide variety of weaponry and armor all abandoned the town, the city, the community? Kyoko was uncertain what the sizable settlement was called, and wondered whether she should approach, seeking answers to where she was and what happened to the world.

She was also afraid, and avoiding such a vast assembly of people, as she discerned danger, something awry with the way they arranged themselves and talked. She came from the fields of battle far away, and had buried many corpses, collected many macabre memories, and wanted little to do with war, so… she stayed her distance. A somber silence was shared amongst her and her companions who were certainly victims of violence, considering their phantasmal presence. They told her that they had died due to the whims of the divine.

“Should I seek answers from someone here?” Kyoko simply asked.

“We must travel farther to find your memories, although you should find sustenance as well. Another friend from among the living would show you the way to survive.” The Rat of Remembrance replied, scurrying amidst the shimmering hooves of the Solar Steed.

“Eh? I’m doing fine.” she said, yet started striding towards the source of her stress and felt the falsity of what she said. The small sage was wise, so she wanted to be a diligent disciple. Her hunger had also potentially propelled her.

Night began to approach as the road spun and twisted, flowing amidst the hills and slopes of the outlining the mysterious settlement. It seemed the soldiers had left southwards on another road and the one she walked was silent besides the pitter patter of her own soft feet. But then before long a new noise came- voices.

Around the bend in front of her there came into view a large cut out beneath a sheer cliff. Large enough for an encampment to settle under and that's what she saw. A few fires had been lit, large wagons lay dormant next to the roadside and people talked in loud voices. There was something on the air as well, a savory scent of something cooking.

Her spectral companions chose not to accompany her as she approached the encampment, the smell enticing her. Proper etiquette eluded Kyoko, enamored with the prospect of a warm meal, she simply walked wherever the waft of wondrous food was coming from, almost ignoring everything else. She was the huntress and she sought her prey with a hungry ardor.

Not all prey was so easily caught however. As she approached someone gave a cry and almost within a blink of an eye, she was being surrounded by menfolk. Most of them had pointy ears and lithe faces with sharp eyes but a few wore beards upon their chins and stood shorter then their compatriots. All wore a sigil of a creature upon that flew and blew flames upon their leather tunics. The fabric was dyed red on a black background. In their hands they held sharp swords and they murmured under their breaths.

"What's your business here?" One asked, the fading sky turning his features dark.

Stopped - Kyoko scowled at those that prevented her from plucking her prey from the fire. She could see the precious poultry, so close, she could hear the soul calling to her. She pointed at the chicken they cooked, with a degree of difficulty considering they barred her path.

“I seek the burning bird, hmm, my belly does. I’m also looking for a living guide to get me more food for my journey.” She said solemnly, seeking a swift resolution and acquisition of supper. She hoped that they would suggest she find the latter section of her request elsewhere as she was less than fond of their odor too. Away from this paradoxical place where food smelled pleasant and people were stinky.

They gave each other strange looks. Half of bewilderment and the other bemusement. The man who spoke looked back at the fire then to her. He then sheathed his sword. "A hungry lady it seems. Who are we to deny such a request when we have much to share." He looked at the other men. "Won't you come and fill your belly by the warmth? I promise we won't bite." He said with a toothy smile.

The other men grumbled but sheathed their swords.

“I can’t complain about such a generous gift.” She answered, and stared at all of the weapons, worried and wondering why they would be wary around her. She did not brandish a blade whenever she was approached by another being after all, but she conceded that the only others she has encountered have been ethereal spirits. Was she strange?

“Also - my guide has to accept ghosts too. Is that alright?” She asked, and sought a seat for herself - willing to stay long enough to satiate her hunger, should she have to seek someone somewhere else in the end. She bowed respectfully to the men before she reclined somewhere she assumed to be the right place, and relaxed as she eagerly awaited roasted chicken.

They followed her and some sat around the fire whilst others stood. The man who had spoken to her sat down beside her, leaning forward to grab a leg. "We all have our own ghosts that follow us. As for a guide we'll, how's this for starters." He said, passing the chicken leg to her. "It's quite hot, I'd be careful of reckless eating. There's wisdom in patience. Blow on it to cool it down." He said in a half whisper.

One of the men chuckled. "Darwyn finally find himself something to gawk at, is that it?" He said, his tone hardened.

"Well who wouldn't with such a lady?" Another man chimed in.

"Be something fishy about this, Darwyn. You know your brother won't like us feeding strangers." A filthy man, one of the shorter ones spoke as he leaned back, resting his hands behind his head. "These being war times and all that. Can't be too careful and what's she mean by all this strange talk? You ain't one of them spirit folks are ye?" He asked her with a raised eyebrow.

Darwyn rose and clenched his fists. "Now you lot listen here and listen good. I wasn't raised up to let anyone needing aid be passed by if I couldn't help them. So that's what we are going to do. Spirit or not. Leave my brother to me, he'll be back anytime now." He sat back down and the rest of the men rolled their eyes and began to eat as well.

So many voices speaking, so much more overwhelming compared to the silence of spirits and corpses. Kyoko chose to be careful with eating the chicken leg, though the suggestion certainly confused her. Her hands were hotter than fire when she wanted to warm herself while the weather was cold and cruel after all.

She didn’t desire being a bother, thus she blew upon the chicken leg as per instructed, and smiled upon completing the comical ritual. She began to eat her reward with euphoric rigor, easily tearing apart both bone and meat with her teeth. She quickly consumed the piece of poultry.

When the others were eating, she spoke. “My friends are spirits, and we’re looking for my lost memories. The Rat of Remembrance suggested I find a friend that is also alive, heh.” The taste of chicken upon her tongue felt like a wave of curing water, washing away any weariness. She shivered with delight.

“More please.” She added, slightly abashed, as she held out her hand.

There was some soft laughter at her words across from her as one man jabbed another. Darwyn reached for more but as he did so, the older man let out a strange noise. Like a half laugh and sigh. "Hear me now Darwyn," he said, "The lady is not well in that mind of hers. I see nothing but trouble from giving her help. You know what the old stories say and I dare not repeat em."

"Cob, if I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it old man." Darwyn frowned.

But his speech seemed to rouse the others. The man with the hoarse voice, who hadn't stopped staring at her, suddenly spoke. "The old man is right. Your brother will have our heads if he finds out we've helped a loon. We don't even know her name or where she's from. I suggest me and a few lads take her to the city and let someone sort her out."

Darwyn froze for a second before breaking off a piece of chicken and handing it to Kyoko. He then looked at the hoarse man. "That's mighty charitable of you, Ryke." He said with an accusatory tone.

Rykr looked offended and raised his arms, trying his best to look innocent. "Now now master Darwyn. On my life I'd never been more genuine. I once had a daughter you know. The thought of harm coming to any young lady scorches my heart it does." He said in a softer voice.

"That may be so. But no one leaves from here until my brother gets back. That was his orders if you are forgetting them." He glanced at the man as he took a bite of his own piece of food.

"So be it." The other man said, leaning back.

"She'll stay here until our Lord returns and he can do as he wants." Darwyn said with food in his mouth before swallowing. "Now how about you two go and check the cargo."

Old Cob frowned again but didn't say anything as he got up and left, followed by Ryke.

“My name is Kyoko.” Her voice was soft spoken, and she still held the chicken with a hesitant hand. Her appetite suddenly absent. Lost like who she was and where she came from.

"Kyoko." Darwyn smiled. "Please, pay them no mind. Eat and be content. I won't let anything happen to you."

“Why were they bothered by me? Will your brother be angered as well?” She asked, attempting to alleviate her anxiety by forcing herself to intake more food. Her hunger had become a bigger hollow within her, burdened by an enigmatic emptying entity. She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t want to eat only one apple a day again…”

He looked into the fire. "I doubt my brother will be but these are strange times. Feels like a war is always going on in some part of this land. Rebellions and feuds, people dying by the score. Many only want to look out for themselves, hence why those two took alarm. Old Cob means well despite how gnarled his ways are. Ryke, not so much. I've no doubt if I let you go with him, you'd have never made it to the city. Does that frighten you?" He asked. "Men are beasts and shouldn't be trusted, after all."

“Hmm… I did not want to go to the city. There were too many people there. I came from far away where there were no people.” Kyoko turned her attention to the skies above, where the stars faintly shone, so far away. Those celestials gave some comfort to her too.

“Shouldn’t I trust men? I mean, you’ve been so kind even if you smell like soaked salt and angry metal.” She said with sincerity, smiling since she found that she had soon become somehow fond of what was once foul. A contradictory campfire could lead to much lucidity and illumination, she mused to herself.

He looked at her and laughed, a pure note ringing in his voice. "I am not a man though, but of elfkind." He said outlining his sharp ears. "So you are quite safe, even if I do smell. It's been a bit since I've been able to wash, for that I apologize." He blushed in the firelight and turned slightly away from her. "You should eat more before it's gone. Are you thirsty?"

“Of elfkind? Hmm… yes, do you have drinks?” Kyoko murmured, memories of elves eluding her mind yet the word held meaning to her. She was starving to know more about these strangers and herself, as well as simply hungry and thirsty.

He nodded and swiftly retrieved a flask on a nearby stool. Before handing it to her he uncorked the flask and produced a small vial of a clear substance and poured it in. "Apologies once again, the stream we got our water from was quite stale with all these marching armies about. Little family secret, crushed lavender, helps with the taste. Hope you don't mind." He said with a smile as he stared at her.

“I haven’t had lavender before, but I’ll be happy with whatever you have.” She said, sipping the contents slowly with curiosity, before chugging the contents swiftly. The taste was wonderful, and she attempted a small smile afterwards. She still struggled shifting her somber demeanor, but she wished to show her delight.

Darwyn's eyes gleamed in the fire light. A wide smile crossed his lips and he sat back down next to her. Closer. "Yes it's quite a refreshing smell and it does wonders for those needing sleep." He put an arm around her shoulder with sudden haste, his grip firm. "Don't worry, Kyoko. No one else will touch you, I promise you that. My brother and I dislike used goods after all."

Her mind slowed, stumbling in mental mud, as motions melded together with meanings and mysteries. She sensed herself swaying, and she wondered why her body was being so bellicose with her. She recalled the warm feeling when she rode the Solar Steed, and barely registered the stark difference between the touch of the spirit, and the touch of Darwyn. She thought there was danger in him, though that was the last thought before she was lulled into the domain of dreams, slumbering peacefully.

---

Oa’qeisskesi stood in the middle of a dark pool outside the castle putting her hands into it. She let the energy within her begin to turn the pool into a passage in the abyssal realm using her strength; the energy was done cracking her head she backed away for a few meters she then said in her tongue. “Arise dark defender for i need thy protection” with the shaking of the ground the pond soon had a giant pawn emerge and crack the dark landscape with the impact and soon another emerged pulling itself from the pond came glowing with blue glowing spots, claws tall as elephants, and a face with a split mandible and a thousand eyes with its hair being thousands of twisting tentacles its hinds legs soon emerged as the pong seemed to disappear as it came into the world howling into the sky. Turning to Oa’qeisskesi it then said “Queen of the abyss… it has been long” “It has… many things delayed me, luckly now we can start work on the rest, for now i need you to keep watch over Sihu’rysai i got a few too many intrusions already.” “As you wish for my queen.” The titan replied beginning to patrol the lands around Sihu’rysai sighing in relief Oa’qeisskesi returned in flight to the palace going to its top past the clouds were the night sky lights shined in her room she then said “One less worry for now…” she soon laid on a bed made out of obsidian and she sighed relaxingly in the moment seeing the stars.

“Oa’qeisskesi, I would speak with you.”

The calling of the Creatrix was accompanied by the arrival of a silver shimmering portal above the abyssal deity. An abrupt invitation. Oa’qeisskesi lifted from her bed seeing the portal she sighed saying “What’s a woman gotta do to have a century of peace it has been barely twenty years.” standing in the room she was less than happy saying “What do you want now?”

The silver portal rippled, like a pond after a tossed stone pierced the surface. There was no reflection upon its distorted shape, despite the silvery sheen, and instead the almost-mirror seemed to stare at Oa’qeisskesi. Little limbs spread along the sides, reaching out like sharp rays of sunlight.

“Step through, and I shall speak of my want.”

Oa’qeisskesi looked extremely suspicious but rolled eyes saying “Fine…” she soon stepped inside the portal. The silver shine seemed to become a bit distorted due to her presence.

Through the calling portal; a colossal circular chamber awaited Oa’qeisskesi, and at the center, upon an ornate throne, was Anath Homura. Almost identical in appearance to Pyrrha, the avatar of the Hanged One, there were a few major and minor differences: The Creatrix had a single ruby-red eye with the second socket being replaced with a white flower, and she had an additional set of arms that held artifacts in each hand; a coin and a mirror. The most prominent difference to those that were deities would be the presence of power.

She whom conjured the cosmos, and called all amongst the pantheon to this world.

“Be welcome, Oa’qeisskesi. I apologize for interrupting your rest.”

Oa’qeisskesi stood in the room her shadow was tall in the walls as she looked around the room her eyes seemed to scan the area for any sort of surprise that might happen she then said “So you are the queen of this world?”

“I am Anath Homura, and I wove this world together. I shaped the sacred vessels with which your hands hold, and pour forth the power to further cultivate the cosmos. I have summoned you here since you remain awake and animated, thus you shall receive a reward: What do you wish for, Oh Wielder-of-the-Abyss aspect?”

Oa’qeisskesi was confused looking at Homura she then said “Interesting call… the gates of the abyss will stand even if I disappeared. But without a gate keeper i think you would ask for a new one to take the mantle” she soon crossed her arms thinking. After a moment she then said “Well how about something that lets me have a eye on who is closing in on my home it's not like i care what they do as long it isnt to my family or me”

“You wish for security then. Are you afraid of an attack?” Anath Homura asked, as she tilted her head like a cat looking at a spool of yarn with calm curiosity. The entire chamber contrasted with her serene shape, as it constantly shifted and stirred - almost alive.

“I wouldn't say much i am afraid of attack just trying to learn where the others will be since i can’t know what they plan or if they are planning a attack or harming my family” She said crossing her arms to her Oa seemed to express some gestures of emotion yet her face and somewhat of her body seemed to show she was rather stone cold.

“Ashevelen has said that your existence is a threat to all life. Why would she speak such of you, Oa’qeisskesi?” Another question posed by Anath Homura, as she slowly held her hands outwards and gracefully gestured for Oa to come closer.

Oa seems unphased by the accusation she crossed arms and then said “they call me what they want. I don't care, I only wish for the security of my family… it's all i have” Beside her the black sun stood he then said “She seems a bit curious i feel like we should lie” Oa only seemed to roll eyes for a moment.

“I wish for the security of my family too. I do cherish all of my beloved children…” The Creatrix crooned, and continued to beckon to the abyssal deity, asking her to approach. Her ruby-red eye glittering like a cosmic gemstone bathed in celestial radiance, ethereal and earthly, eternal and ephemeral. A perpetual paradox that peered at the abyss.

Oa seemed doubtful but approached she then said “If you are afraid of anything I do there is nothing to worry about…” Oa stopped at the steps of her throne her shadow seemed big in the room and there seemed to have eyes looking through it.

“I am afraid for my family, and not of my family, Oa’qeisskesi. I am Mother of the Hanged One, an aspect I gave as a goddess to my divine daughter. I intend to… have her returned to me.” Anath Homura said solemnly, small and slender yet similar in size to the shadow, still sitting with peaceful poise. Her hands still stretched outwards, reaching towards Oa with regal tenderness.

Oa gave a sighed nod she then said “I understand why you do it… your daughter is safe if you worry about her. I do not seek destruction where I march for the sake of destruction.” Oa continued with her emotionless stare for a goddess she seemed rather more like a sickly being due to her pale skin and shining blood red eyes seemed more like it would cause curses rather than blessings she seemed to turn around and walk away she then said. “I am not a mother but i can know how it is to wish to protect one's family…”

“You would walk away from me?” The goddess gently asked.

Oa seemed to wave to her saying “I am not in the mood for being judged on my intentions… It's the third time this divine week that someone is asking this to me and I already answered.” she continued to walk away.

“Always away, Oa. Hmm… Anath mian yhe rahosooa naeceys.” The Creatrix replied, conjuring a portal, and allowing the abyssal deity to depart.

Oa seemed to freeze on her tracks turning her head back she still seemed without emotion before saying “Thiseoiss yhe…” she continued walking after a while she then said “good luck too…”

---

They were summoned together - though two of their sisters had disappeared - the remaining six striding towards their summoner. Their mythic and mystical mother - The solitary scarlet goddess - Anath Homura. Fear felt the truth of her namesake and sought to flee, but abandoning her sisters again sickened her.

While walking - they wondered where Harmony had went, and speculated that she seemingly sought their wayward sister, Desire. None amongst them had learned why she left or where she was in the world. The worst soon came when their telepathic connection was suddenly severed without warning too.

Fear stumbled... She had become blue, shaped and stained so much more strangely in comparison to the other children of the Creatrix. Courage, Kindness, Curiosity, and Wanderer, all welcomed her altered appearance. Would Anath Homura accept her?

They passed through the portal that transferred into the central colossal chamber of the citadel, its infinite characteristics stirred and shifting all around them. The potent presence of their progenitor pulled their attention away from the architecture, and they saw the second set of arms that sprouted from the shoulders of Anath Homura. Almost all of them became bemused by the sight, silently awaiting an answer:

All aside from Fear whom fell to the floor and fought against the tears that threatened to spill. She could see him standing there. She could see him staring at them with cold eyes. The tall corpse of Chailiss, gazing upon them with grave-touched cruelty.

Pride swiftly and softly tapped her through their connection, seeking to see the truth too. Fear fumbled, having secluded her thoughts for too much time, though soon managed to share her sight. The perspective frightened Pride as well.

"We should leave, now!" Pride proclaimed, as Kindness and Wanderer gave aid to Fear, helping her stand. Curiosity tilted her head in confusion, as Courage came up to the Keeper of Keltra and chuckled.

"Eh, mother wants to speak with us, pipsqueak. We can't just --- " She said playfully, ruffling the pink hair of their smallest sister, until she suddenly slipped and fell upon the floor too. Sharp and shrill screams began to echo throughout the citadel as Courage clutched her lacerated legs, bleeding profusely while spreading symbols of the Stigma continued to sear her skin. The sound of her voice was suppressed as their surroundings warped and shifted again.

"What's happening? Why was Courage hurt?" Curiosity asked, panic pulling her frantic gaze back and forth between her bleeding sister and the serene goddess that stared at them with a single ruby-red eye.

"Pray Courage, you cannot touch my cherished Pride." Anath Homura answered, and began to slowly approach them.

"We must go!" Pride warned them, and together they worked towards reaching wherever was refuge. There were no doors, no windows, and no alternate paths for escape. Nothing. They were trapped.

Kindness and Curiosity carried the wounded Courage, while Wanderer asked aloud where they were going...

"Fear! You must fly away! Take them to freedom!" Pride shouted, pushing Fear away when she sought to carry her to safety. Abruptly, the blue-bird princess became barely aware of what was happening... her sisters holding onto her as she sprouted wings and flew through the walls of the fortress.

"The Keeper of Keltra. My precious Pride. You cannot defend yourself from the divine." Anath Homura murmured, motioning for her child to come to her.

She stood somewhere strange. The world was white and black, a pale landscape and skies of shadow pierced with small shimmering stars.

There were no structures, no signs of cultivation or creation, only the otherworldly stillness and solitude. She stood alone in an alien realm, anxiety rising within her.

"Hello? Is somebody here?"

She received no reply, and stumbled backwards. Silence screaming at her, shaking her, striking her.

The weight of the world was weaker here. She fell so slowly, like being lulled into blissful sleep. Since time was sluggish, she stared skywards, at the sea of stars shining - seen yet so far away. Adrift akin to her, perhaps.

She alighted upon the barren ground beneath her, and albino dust had arisen all around her.

"Help me..." She whispered to the world.

She heard footsteps coming closer afore halting after approaching where she was.

"I..." She started, struggling to speak. She sealed her eyes, the sight of the stranger eluding her sight.

More motions, soft sounds; surrounding dust stirred and the rustling of silk.

"I am here. You are alone, no longer." A calm and soothing voice announced.

She shuddered, submersed within the song that was the words of an otherworldly angelic soul.

"Where am I? Who am I?" She asked, wincing when she heard the wrongness of her song alongside the wondrous symphony of the stranger.

Additional sounds accumulated around them as she awaited an answer. Dynamic, dulcet, strings shifting and stirring. Chimes calling. Drums dancing.

"I wish you would remain here with me, my beloved daughter. Ah, the moon was where we had a home, aeons ago."

The melody tugged upon her mind, trying to make memories return.

"Mother?"

She cried like a child. The lunar lullaby continued. The domain of dreams was weird, wherein sleeping would waken the self.

"I cannot answer the second question, sweet child. You must seek the truth yourself."

Defiance drove her upwards, unsealing her eyes as she sought to see the speaker for the first time.

"I am a reflection of Homura, the Moon-Maiden of Honor, the Herald of Harmony, the Lost Lover."

The speaker was serene and awe-inspiring. A burning beauty that stared at her with such sincerity that Kyoko thought she could see the heart of Homura then and there. She averted her gaze, as staring at the goddess was akin to staring at the sun.

"You're..."

She fumbled and floundered, seeking to say something that would convey what she could barely comprehend.

"You shall find your family. The Anath awaits your arrival."

Homura came closer and placed her hands upon the cheeks of her crying child, caressing and consoling her. Kyoko lost sight again as lost love seeped into her secluded soul. Forlorn flowers sprouted across her scalp, her face, all along her head. Compassionate crimson flowers that were the last wondrous feelings she had before being flung back to the waking world.

---

The world was a gray fog when Ema startled awake with a bump. The Aelos was immediately aware that she was moving. And the night's journey resurfaced in her mind. She had walked with that elf man out of the city, led like some cattle. Many had gawked and stared but Ema only tried to focus on her own feet walking. One step at a time. The Lord Drakken, as she was told by him, was a man of thought and expectation. If she fell behind to the point the chain tightened between master and slave, he pulled at it with little fanfare and Ema hurried on.

When they had reached the camp he had spoken about her with glee and Ema had been put inside a wagon with an iron cage. His men stared at her and spoke of the night's events. Ema wasn't really paying attention until the cage opened and a man with similar features to the Lord, placed a small figure inside with her. So they were slavers it seemed. When only one of the men remained to act as a guard, did Ema look at who she shared a cell with. A young girl with dark hair and pale skin, fast asleep. She looked quite cold and a small fleeting thought came to Ema. She wished she had a blanket to give. Fleshlings being unable to regulate themselves… She sighed but could do nothing.

Morning light, with its bright uncaring demeanor, peaked over the hills, banishing the twilight of the world with bright colors. Orange was chiefest among them, tinged with reds and yellows. She could not remember the last time she had seen such a sunrise. Nor if she'd see anymore. They were heading on a long winding road, pulled by some sort of beast of burden through the green countryside as the birds sang to the dawn.

It was a caravan of sorts and the men were many, riding horses and talking to themselves. She could not see the Lord. Their driver looked back now and again, a youthful face. Too young, she thought. Soon it would be a fleeting image, replaced with one old and wrinkled, if he managed to survive for that long. She looked back at the sleeping girl, wondering how old she was and how she ended up at the hands of such people. How long would it be before her innocence was gone? If she had any, that was, catching herself. Far too often did she assume what she saw was truth before understanding not every face should be taken at a first value. A trick she learned from the smiths, who so often had to check for impurities in the metal they wrought.

Ema looked back to the land outside the bars. Tall grasses with grazing cattle passed them, guarded by men who gave them all stern looks as they gripped their saddles. But she focused on the flowers in bloom for a time. Wondering where they were even going. She hadn't a clue but the way the Lord had looked at her… She knew it wouldn't be good. But, as she curled into a ball, Ema knew dead things didn't care what happened to their corpses. No, they shouldn't care at all.

---

Waking was an agonizing act. Wherein being asleep was serene and blissful, being awake was such stress and brutality. An onslaught of sensations - overwhelming. Kyoko slowly stirred, shedding the soft shroud of sleep and acquiring the weight of the world with a sigh.

Her body ached; bones and muscles in mutiny against her before her belly began the assault. She spewed blood and bile from her mouth, sickened stomach releasing all the filthy fluids through her throat, and she choked, and she coughed, until the terrible urges concluded with weak utterances. Empty. Exhausted.

She shivered and silently cried, straining to smile too. She called upon any remnants of strength and attempted to seat herself, to try to take in her shifting surroundings, so different during the day. The sunlight seared her sight, and she closed her eyes as she called out to her companions:

“Rat? Steed? Where am I?”

There came the shifting of something heavy, like a weight being moved about before it settled. She was not alone but it wasn’t Rat or Steed. Leaning against the iron bars of the cage, for that was where she happened to be, was a strange thing. Cool blue eyes, glowing with awareness stared at her with an impassive face of feminine features. A metallic face, like a mask. It said nothing but just stared at her.

“Who are you?” Kyoko asked, squinting at the strange shape. Her voice was hoarse, and she swiftly began the futile act of cleaning herself, brushing her cheeks with stained sleeves. She remembered some of the scenes prior to sleep, and recalled the danger she sensed within Darwyn. She shook; seething, sorrowful, scared.

A voice broke forth, emanating from the figure, who not only wore a face of metal but somehow, some way, had a body of armor, woven into a lithe shape but nicked with time and wear. But the voice, it felt like a voice out of a different time, ringing with clarity and forlorn strength. “Are you dying?” She asked, (for it sounded like a woman) ignoring her own question.

“Am I dying…” Kyoko echoed, easing herself back against the iron bars that trapped her. The foul stench stuck to her. She was also aware of the presence of the Stigma that scarred her skin beneath the clothes she wore. Somehow, she could comprehend her sickness, the affliction that came upon sorcerers when they consumed aspects of the cosmos. The term cannibalism came to mind, but she banished the thought swiftly and smirked slightly afterwards.

“Maybe I’m a confused spirit.” She said, head swaying while she struggled to stay awake. Her companions were spirits, and through what little she was capable of recalling from her dream, so was her mother. Memories were a mystery to Kyoko. Knowledge too.

“Are you an Astalonian Prime?” She asked, studying the appearance of the one entrapped with her, accompanying her to wherever they were going. Her blurred vision became more clear, and she could see they were traveling with the soldiers from the night before.

"I am not familiar with that term." The figure said, leaning forward. Dexterous hands tapped upon her own leg with a dull, rhythmic sound. "Spirit or not, does your kind eject those contents without having some sort of sickness or damage on the inside? Poisoned, perhaps?" She kept saying, as if talking to herself.

“Hmm… What happens when you fill a cup already full?” Kyoko asked, and the mention of ailments called her attention to her arms. Her skin felt hot underneath the touch of her sleeves, and she swiftly pulled the silken material aside to see strange swirling symbols spreading across her flesh. A word written somewhere within her soul seemed to speak, and she said aloud without comprehension or connotation: “Gnosis.”

No meanings manifested in her mind, and she stared at the shifting patterns that seared her pale flesh, forming writing which was indecipherable. She recalled something the Rat of Remembrance had said; they must travel to a library where a reader awaited them. She turned her attention to the metallic figure again. “Where are we going? Do you know?”

"It overfills…?" Came the reply to her first question in the form of a question. The metallic woman then shook her head and seemed to look at the same patterns on her skin but made no comment on it. Instead she dragged her knees to her chest and turned away from Kyoko. "A slave does not ask for a destination. A slave only goes where the master goes." She said in a tired voice, at least she sounded tired. "Hide your skin." She added and then said no more.

“A slave?” Sleeves hid the shifting symbols once more as she inquired softly about the strange term she heard. A series of images and applications appeared in her mind, meanings without meanings, as she wondered where she was without receiving an answer that showed her the way to who she was.

“I’m Kyoko.” She simply said, introducing herself - however incapable of bowing properly because of her current position and pain. Her hunger had already returned despite how she retched earlier, and awareness of what would happen whenever she would eat again.

The metal woman's face snapped back to her. She studied Kyoko again. "A slave." She nodded, "One who serves another. It's forced bondage. No freedom of our own. A worker with no rights." She looked to the floor. "Ironheart." She said, "You may call me that, Kyoko."

“Who do we serve, Ironheart?” The question felt quite like a lost key to a quizzical door.

"The Lord Drakken, who purchased me from my old master yesterday." Ironheart responded, pulling herself tighter. "Now you serve as well, no doubt, and through force if need be. That is slavery, Kyoko." She sighed, "Though, you're young," she glanced at her, "You might be sold to someone else. Your type works better indoors. You don't look like one who has many skills. Moldable to one's needs." She looked away and seemed to shudder, if metal could shudder.

“Do you desire to be somewhere else?” Kyoko asked, another question that seemed a step closer to the metaphorical mysterious door.

Ironheart did not speak nor look at Kyoko for a time. "Dead things have no desires." She eventually said, the words hollow and full of misery.

Before Kyoko could say anything else, someone rode back to their wagon cage and slowed. It was Darwyn, smiling a toothy smile.

"Ahhh Kyoko, you're awake. Good, very good. I wasn't sure if the drug would work on someone so strange but rest assured, here we are." He said, leering at her. "To think it would have been so easy, I still can't believe it. Ah but where are my manners? How are you doing, miss spirit talker?" He laughed.

“Where are we going?” She asked, acerbic, an absence of humor in her heart. She found she did not enjoy the feeling of being within a cage while this man laughed. Her attention turned to Ironheart, and the thought of the two of them trapped here was hurting her head.

The metallic woman made no sign of even acknowledging Darwyn. She just looked at the floor with empty eyes.

Darwyn laughed again and then his smile became less until only a frown remained. “It seems you’ve grown a little, pity. I was hoping to get some more fun out of you yet but eh.” he shrugged. “We’ll have plenty of time.” he tossed a bit of bread at her that slid between the bars and landed in her vomit. He scoffed, “Try to keep that down, would you? Water will come later. Don’t make any racket, we hate unwanted attention.” His eyes glanced at Ironheart, “I can see why my brother wanted you. One of a kind.” With that he glanced at Kyoko again and sneered, then kicked his horse and he was away.

Her hands reached for the bread, regardless of the filth, and she stared at the food she held with whining hunger whispering in her eyes. “Why?” She lamented, before shoving the bread into her mouth and munching happily. Whatever hesitation had halted her before biting into the terrible-tasting bit of supposed sustenance was swiftly gone. Yet her hunger sought more, a meager portion not enough to satisfy her stomach.

“Hey! Bring me more!” She shouted, attempting to shake the cage as she held onto the bars with what little strength she had.

"Quiet!" The young man driving the wagon snapped, having turned with angry eyes to look at Kyoko. "It'll be both our backs if you don't shut it." He said in a heavy accent.

“Fetch me food then!” Kyoko retorted, turning her attention to the driver and angrily shifting closer. Weak with lingering sickness, she stumbled and swayed, but she refused to stay silent until she received more bread. “Give me something to eat… please.” She added, also attempting to be polite.

The young man, with bright blue eyes and sandy colored hair that swept past his eyes, looked at her in bewilderment. Then he shook his head. “I ain’t got nothing for you, go sit and be quiet. We don’t want them to come back here.” He hissed.

“You just have to go and find some. I will be seated and silent with something to eat. Otherwise I’ll shout.” She refused to surrender - resolve burning in her belly, demanding to be doused in drink and food.

The young man was about to say something else but he seemed to notice something she did not. Within seconds a hand covered Kyoko’s mouth and another wrapped around her waist. Hard and cold, an iron-like grip. Ironheart’s voice was but a whisper in her ear, “This side of you, bratty and full of greed, I don’t like it. Look at him. Does he look like he has food? That he could go and get you food?” She asked in a calm manner, as the young man turned back to the front. “He was skin and bones- a slave, just like us. You would bring both harm to yourself and him if you keep acting spoiled. You don’t want to be whipped, Kyoko. Trust me. Now be calm and patient. Nod if you understand.”

Her mouth moved before her mind could convey she understood, and after tasting metal upon her tongue as she tried to munch ahead, or specifically a hand, she simply shuddered. Eating Ironheart would not be an option either. She swiftly regained command of herself and nodded angrily.

Ironheart let go fully of Kyoko and backed up from her. “I know you by name only, Kyoko. But what I can tell is that this is a new experience for you. An unknown. So here’s a lesson, don’t doom others through your own foolish actions.” The metallic lady went back to her side of the cage and sat down, dragging her knees close and then bending her head in between them.

“Should I starve then? I’m so hungry!” She complained, seating herself as well. Stillness could not come, and she continually shuffled herself while whispering sardonic comments.

“Keep the bread down. Then you may complain.” Ironheart chimed back.

“You’re a malicious machine; mocking my suffering.” Kyoko moaned, tossing and turning herself away from Ironheart. She closed her eyes, and sought to see what was happening to the bread within her stomach. Shadows shrouded her sight, clinging to what she consumed as though her body rebelled against her attempt at recalling the relief of filling herself.

The machine didn't speak, nor show any sign of acknowledging her suffering. The only other sound at all was the slow steady beat of the wagon being pulled and hoofbeats. Carrying them to someplace neither knew.

---

Wyn waited for a time, hovering next to the mirror, wondering if any would come. As time passed her lips turned to a frown and then a thin line. Was she truly alone? She was mixed upon the thought and did not want to dwell upon it at all. An idle mind was prone to controversial thoughts, hers most of all. She told herself someone would come, if not a fellow divine, then the mortals below. She just had to maintain control of herself for long enough to figure out what was going on in the world.

Then it hit her and she let out an exasperated sigh. She had eyes, did she not? Wyn went to sit down and as she did a bench rose up to meet her. She had her moths, Ivory's invention. There was nothing like a paranoid mind wanting to know whatever it could. So she reached out and much to her surprise, she began to see in her minds eye.

The bloodmire was changed but she already knew that, so she pushed further. The sensation was as if she was lighting a fire and they reached to her like the brightest fire there was. Outside of the Mire, the world had changed. Mortal fought mortal with their weapons of war. Thousands died, more were lost forever. The city of the elves, where Celeatine had claimed, was gone entirely. What had been its name?

The landscape to the north was much the same, though hadn't there been a great tree somewhere? Further the moths had gone, to a land of fire and brimstone, scarred forever with little flames of their own. Her vision shifted south to a great Mesa of empty promises. Past a strait to see a vast land floating, over mountains to see a desert unclaimed.

Over and over the visions came and she could see it all. The despair, the loneliness, the sorrow. The joy of green grass, the scent of pleasant flowers, the harmony of love. Bluebirds and flaming hair. But beyond it all a vast nothingness that blotted the land and consumed it.

Oa.

Wyn snapped out of it. There was no one else, save a few. So much chaos in the world, so much anger. Where was the one that had summoned them? She stood and a flurry of moths left her. And for the first time in a long time, she knew she wasn't alone.

“Wyn, I would speak with you.”

A presence spoke - serene and potent - suffusing their surroundings with a sacred aura; akin to the soil that prepared for the arrival of the seeds. The voice of the summoner, somewhere close and afar. A portal appeared, and promised answers.

Wyn looked to where the portal hummed, only hearing what that voice, so familiar, had uttered. It was Desire's voice but not quite and a shiver ran down her spine. The flame licked her heart yet she made no move to approach. Only the naive walked into danger without care and Wyn sensed it. Like a hidden dagger, waiting to find the killing blow.

So Wyn sat back down on her bench and uttered a reply, "I am here, please come. I am very lonely, after all." A bit of Ivory's feigned innocence poured out and she felt foolish and she quickly added, "If it would please you, that is." And then she waited.

Slowly; the portal sealed itself, and the presence from afar soon faded away afterwards. Then the touch of the Sun, the warmth shared with all of the world, receded as well. The salient lack of light that shrouded even sacred sight and truth had emerged, sudden and subtle, as an emptiness appeared aside the majestic mirror. A solemn voice spoke from the void:

“Hmm… the scents of Tonta and Uwné linger upon you. My defiant daughter should have stayed home. I apologize for her harmful actions.” The Anath Homura intoned, as acoustics became suppressed throughout their surroundings, and the sole sound remaining was the serene song of her speech - both beautiful and brutal resonations.

Wyn's back straightened at those names, the hair on her perfect neck raising ever so slightly. She looked in the direction of the voice and despite the old wisps of anger reeling inside she bowed her head slightly. "I thought I'd never hear those names again." Wyn said after some time. "Thank you for coming. But there is nothing to apologize for, Homura. Her actions brought some semblance of sanity back to myself. For it I am grateful." She gave a soft smile and feeling as if she had to be doing something, she began to play with a long strand of her hair. "You may sit if you like." She patted the spot beside her.

A throne sculpted from stone suddenly arose aside Wyn, though naught was seated. A horrid set of hands wove the threads of the world, and touched the tapestry without tangible tenderness. Only a numb nothingness offered. “I have ever honored the dead in their dreary and desiccated halls. An endless horde of names I held against annihilation. Desire sought to salvage them through the Sea of Shadows…” The tone of the Creatrix twisted and contorted, ambivalent and abstruse.

Wyn took in the words, letting their meaning wash over her as she moved her free hand to her strand of hair. It seemed that the summoner was both of honor and conviction but there was something else. More formidable and dark. A depression. Wyn knew from what she had deigned from Desire's blood, that the being before her was not as she appeared. Much like herself.

Eventually Wyn offered a small smile. "Does that upset you?" She asked.

“A child cannot arise from the shadow of her corpse-mother. She shall sink deeper into despair, should she continue to seek the truth within the cursed womb.” The Anath Homura answered, and something stirred. A shape appeared amongst the shadows, contours crawling along their surroundings, wandering, coming closer to Wyn with cryptic intent. Serpents slithering through the unseen, forked tongues whispering the truth:

“Sss-sight spread-sss lie-sss, and the blind become wise-sss…”

“The fork-sss-akened flame-sss sss-o cold… and four hand-sss to hold…”

“The dream-sss ss-she grant-sss have the feeling of life…. her hunger i-sss boundless-ss, her presence-ss bring-sss ss-strife…”

Wyn felt uneasy by what she saw? What she thought she saw? She could hear just fine and it brought her no comfort but she steadied herself. What was even speaking? Was it some trick by this Homura? Wyn knew a wolf in sheep's clothing when she saw one but this… It was odd.

She made no motion of it as she spoke next, "She searches for something, that is quite plain. And you are hiding a truth, that too is plain. Are you certain it will only bring her despair? What if it allowed her to rise? Even above you?" Wyn asked in a steady voice, dropping her hands into her lap. She did not look in Homura's direction anymore.

“Do you believe she could do as you describe? Her mother crumbled apart; broken by my hands. So Desire shall suffer the same fate.” The voice within the void rebuked with repugnant vigor, brazen and belligerent, cold and cruel.

“Ah.” Wyn simply put, looking off now into nothing. Once more she pondered the words, knowing little of their depths. She was beginning to understand at least two things however; She was obtaining more questions than answers from Homura and it was becoming evident that Homura was once something else entirely but no more. She cleared her throat, “Do I believe?” She said aloud, “I’d like to think so. I’ve done terrible things. It seems that you have too, whether willing or unwilling. With those terrible deeds comes about despair. For us. For those we have touched. For the world itself. Should I not have faith that despair can give way to hope?”

She looked to where she thought Homura was. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what her own desire is, or why you wish to stop her. Maybe it isn’t for me to know. I do have a hunch that there are no words I can give to persuade you of not breaking her.” She paused and a red tear formed at the corner of her eye before it rolled down her cheek, leaving a crimson stain. “I’m not sure what happened to you but I am sorry. I know how it feels to no longer be yourself.”

As Wyn gazed into the abyss, something stared back at the goddess. “I shall enjoy eviscerating my dear daughter when she returns. If you wish for words to speak; repeat my message to her: Tell her that her mother awaits her arrival, alongside a festival for her finding her home.”

The pale goddess stared and then nodded. “If that’s what you wish, corpse-mother, then I shall do so. Was there anything else you wished to speak to me about or shall I return to my silent vigil?”

“I shall shatter this world soon. I wished to speak with you regarding your realm, ascertaining where to avoid when I reshape reality. I assume you would want the Bloodmire and adjacent lands to remain unscathed.” The Anath Homura answered, shifting their surroundings, sounds and shapes suddenly freed from suppression.

Wyn winced at the sudden blast of sound and shifted on her bench. “You are… Shattering this world? For what reason would you have for that…?” Wyn asked, alarm in her voice.

“I am displeased with the work of the divine.”

She wanted to roll her eyes but refrained. Ivory would be gushing, even rooting for it but no. It felt wrong but… Who could really stop her? “My own work suffices? How will others react to this?” She asked.

“Many have fled. The few that remain shall have their realms shielded from harm as well. Whether your work suffices… well, we shall see. I am always watching.” The Creatrix replied, rising from her conjured throne. She stood close and afar, simultaneously adjacent and away, but the presence of blood could not be concealed from Wyn. Without warning, a wound appeared upon Homura, or where she seemingly was, and immaculate ichor slowly seeped forth.

Wyn's eyes snapped to the small wound. A cut that glimpsed somewhere else. Someplace far away but Wyn pushed that aside. There was a greater prize to be had and it gripped her. Wyn's thin lips pulled open with a haughty breath. A hunger she had seldom known washed over her, the prospect tantalizing. An opportunity to glimpse into the depths of truest sustenance.

So the Goddess of blood peered within and she saw much within the Creator's ichor. But the greatest revelation came apparent immediately. Homura's blood was much like her own. Split into three, fighting for domination over the vessel. Her hunch had been right all along, that she was not in fact who she had been all along and it made Wyn's heart pound. For all the wrong reasons.

She didn't view it with any sympathy in that moment. She saw only what it could mean for her. Ivory flashed with greed. Ebony burned with hunger. The power to create in totality. The power to tear apart the cosmos. It was right at her fingertips, all she had to do was… rip her ope- She breathed hard, throat burning and then the Goddess blinked.

Shame washed over her as those dark thoughts became distant. She looked away, feeling embarrassed. Those feelings, more than the being that wore Homura's skin, frightened Wyn. That insatiable hunger for power.

"Yes…" She whispered suddenly, having already revealed too much of herself. "I would prefer minimal damage to the land surrounding my Mire to be harmed. If that's all…"

“Pride…” The Creatrix crooned, and suddenly a hypothetical hand that was neither tangible nor nonexistent softly stroked Wyn atop her head, caressing her locks of hair lovingly. The Anath Homura had not shifted, her inert injury indicated such, yet the shadow of her terrible shape still touched the pale goddess. “My precious princess - a petulant child. Where will you go?” She asked, her voice addressing an absent visage.

The ichor within the weaver of the world was boiling, and a suppressed shrill scream echoed with excruciating agony as she spoke. A battle between three types of blood beginning to end.

“Indeed…” Anath Homura replied as she slowly returned to her realm, her hand receding.

Wyn waited until the presence was gone. Then she gasped aloud, sucking in a few deep breaths as she clutched her chest. Something was wrong. So terribly wrong and she was all alone.

Oa’qeisskesi stood in the tower sitting on her throne looking over the palace where her hounds had been laying in the distance her guardian had been keeping a watch over the valley. Things had gone quiet, extremely quiet in the world the gods seemed absent thinking she soon realized why Homura called her. Oa sighed a bit rising from her throne as she walked down the steps she then said. “Time has come for work…” Rising up her tower, a castle and fortress of great magnificence in the middle of nowhere arriving in the upper limits of her bastion she could easily see the heavenly sky.

The sun shined brightly looking down she could sense the dark sun below glowing feeding and growing she cracked her head for a moment saying. “let us see.” her hands seemed to crack with electricity as she raised her arms up a large beam of light was cast upwards thunders echoing through the world. As from the north a great glow seemed to emanate from the northlands in the steppes past mountains, rivers and seas.

As Oa’qeisskesi concentrated the energy she felt unemotional as ever as the energy finally disappeared from her hands as a giant glow remained in the sky she then said. “Well this will help.” She looked over the lands as she lowered her arms as she did. The silence was deafening in the surrounding area.

Standing on top of the palace she quickly raised her hand with a snap of her fingers. The light flashed down creating a giant vortex in the air as lost spirits, ghosts, and souls without an afterlife were immediately drawn to it from across the entire planet. Some light moths to a flame and their doom others draw against their will like being dragged by chains being flushed through the vortex they all soon found themselves converging into a single energy beam going through the Sihu’rysai passing behind her throne and feeding straight into the abyss itself as the energy fueled it Oa watched it through the bridges overwatching the abyss she could feel the gates now being finally opened as she said. “And the bridge keeper must now keep a watch.”

Oa raised hand as the Glaive that Ashvelen gave to her holding with both hands she imbued part of her power into it merging with it. As the dark flames consumed it the blade changed a bit, its symbol becoming one of a sun with an obsidian mark and a small cloth of red hanging from its top balancing in the air she soon hit the ground with it as the room the impact caused a quake she soon shouted. “ARISE!” from the main pool where the dark sun shined and beat like a heart at its edges thousands of creatures began to come from the pool, some sapient, others not so much.

Oa’qeisskesi looked below as her family finally began crossing “They will call then Abyssal spawn in time…” she uttered under her breath but soon the dark sun said. "But shall we care for their concerns when we have ours?" Oa'qeisskesi gave a nod, as they began crossing from in many shapes in forms walking through the passages and heading already to the surface as the soul vortex collected the souls of those not lucky to have a god to help.

The Creatrix’s touch lingered upon the very soul of Wyn. Abhorrent, hateful, commanding… It ran down her spine, sending shivers into her very limbs. Small electric jolts that numbed the tips of her fingers down into her toes. She could feel the touch over and over and over again, replaying their final words to each other as her mind mewled like that of a child. It was in those trembling seconds that Wyn knew she could not trust the word of such a thing.

Her creations would be doomed. Her aspirations turned to dust. The life she had wanted, never to really bear fruit. It was tragic. It was wrong. It was fate. Her fate to wander and to be forgotten. To be pained and to be hunted. Hunted?

The memories jostled her to awareness. She knew she was still sitting on the bench. Waiting for the mirror to receive summons. Yet, she knew, none would ever come again. The pale goddess stood and she began to walk. The world was dying, deprivations and deprived it of sustenance. A madness corrupting its very heart, perhaps from within and perhaps from outside. For certain the outside, where she lauded over them from up above.

Trauma and despair had bled itself into the world before it ever really had a chance to grow and this time, Wyn knew it had not been of her own doing. She had helped, yes but not in the beginning. She had tasted the blood of the simulacron, and had seen what had transpired before this Galbar had been born. It had been the same there, in that world. Pain. Anger. Hatred. Loss. Love. Joy. Compassion and Insanity. Homura had created offspring, copies of her own emotional being, and let them live. To teach humanity. In doing so, she had denied herself the very beings who would have kept her sane.

And then the world was destroyed and this one birthed to take its place. How many times had this happened? How many times would it happen? The very terrible realization that her existence was some cosmic joke washed over the Goddess like an endless wave. It reminded her of drowning and not even Ivory or Ebony wished to take the burden from her.

Was this her fate?

Perhaps it was. But perhaps she could be more than just some wheel in the ageless game.

Desire’s fate was her own. Homura’s insanity was not something Wyn could face. And now she was alone. There would be no saving this world. It needed to truly die, not be recycled into a version worse than its progenitor.

And so, Wyn decided the only thing to do was leave. With or without anyone's permission. She would not be cast out, to wander woefully, no, she would leave on her own terms.

So the goddess of blood willed her power to split reality asunder and she was not seen again.