The last week had been, paradoxically, good for Khaeris. She might be having some issues with her own timeline problems, but she had moved about the world and taken action; it had not felt passive. Her surfboard and beach gear had all been waiting for her in Silvermoon and Khaeris was leaving, again, to begin a few day romp through Stranglethorn for the upcoming parties. She was looking forward to hopefully catching Ahuatli and spending some time with her again.
Wanderlust had often driven Khaerisās life and she was considering letting it lead her again for awhile. Pollux had messaged that she might see him soon. But the āmightā was sobering and the āsoonā was as definite as fairy floss dipped in the sea.
Once she might have waited with bated breath, but that had been some years ago. Time did temper things. Still, there was apparently some story to tell her about, heād promised. She did love stories.
A last kiss to Sunny before depositing her pet sunfur panda back with his temporary caretakers, and Khaeris set off for the portal market. A quick jaunt down to the Durotar race going on now, and then on her way to Stranglethorn more directly. It was going to be a good day to watch the races!
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The wind whipped Therasā mane of red hair behind him, the leather strip tying it back torn free and lost somewhere on the breeze as he plummeted along the cliff face and towards the rocky shoals, the white, frothing waters of the ocean below, clinging for dear life to the rough-scaled neck of his drake. Until today, he had never ridden anything more daring than a tame dragonhawk!
He couldnāt help but let out a scream ā a whooping mix of utter, joyous abandon, and utter, paralyzing terror ā as the drake spread its wings and sent the pair hurtling back into the air just as the elf began to feel the salt spray of the sea on his face, sun catching the beads in his hair. As he lifted into the air again, his stomach settled and he basked in the light of the sun overhead, looking out over the expanse of the Waking Shores below, the red of the canyons broken by splashes of lush green. It was more, in fact, than he had imagined: more thrilling, more terrifying, and above all other concerns, more liberating. Never before had he felt so far and yet so connected to the world. He wasnāt sure he would want to go back after this.
He guided the drake ā relying as much on his own meager skill as a rider as the young dragonās own intuition ā between towering red mesas as they headed inland. Valdrakken, where they had started, had long faded into the distance, only the hazy outline of Thaldraszusā mountains remaining behind him.
Somewhere back there, nestled in the valleys, were all the worries and fears and the problems they caused, but here, there was none of it. Theras could breathe so freely, he understood at last exactly why his father could scarcely stay in the city, or even in QuelāThalas. Of course the sting of those long absences lingered, but if this is what the world held, he could understand the wanderlust that overcame him. That was overcoming Theras now.
He pulled to the left on the reins, and his drake followed, then up, and they shot into the air again, skimming near sun-warmed stones and up past the mesas, towards the great green plateau of the Ohnāahran Plains. Before long, the ground below turned lush and green, with waves of grass rippling across it as if across the expanse of the sea. Still, the hazy blue mountain outline of Thaldrazsus loomed, yet it held no trepidation for the ranger now; all his cares had flown away, fluttering in wild winds down to the earth below, lost in the beauty of the moment.
Specks in the distance below moved across the sea of green, Maruuk hunters tracking their prey, a herd of what must have been mammoths based on their size from so high up. The spear slung across Therasā back felt heavy in that moment, a desire to join their hunt, the joy of tracking, the chase, rising in his chest. For the span of a breath, he considered guiding his drake towards the ground, letting himself run utterly free, the shackles of expectations shattered, but thought better of it. The sun had moved too much in the sky, the shadows below beginning to grow long. Besides, there would be other hunts. His own, not hurling himself into anotherās.
Though he regretted it, he pulled left on the reins again, guiding his companion back towards the mountains, back to the problems of the world, into those shackles waiting for him, waiting to lash him to the ground. He knew, though, just like his father, that with this taste of utter freedom, he would be able to step out of them again.
That, and he could certainly take the long way back.
The Black Shroud was unusually quiet. Normally the singing of birds overhead could be heard in the canopy, or the warning calls of opo-opos alerting their troupe of potential dangers. Yet despite it being midday and along an old beaten path, there were no animals around at all. He couldnāt quite place his finger on this terrible feelingā¦ maybe it was instinct, maybe intuition. The hairs on the back of his neck were stiff, and his tail was bristling; the sooner they left this area and started stumbling across animals again, the better. K'thalen stopped so abruptly the humming girl trotting behind him bumped into his back with a thud. āOofā¦! Whatās the big idea?ā Coroh grumbled, rubbing her nose as she stepped to his side. Her grimace dropped once she saw the piercing glare on his face. It wasn't until she followed his frozen gaze did her heart stop and her stomach drop.
Two merchant wagons were overturned and destroyed, with one of them burning and all the chocobos dead and butchered. There were hyur and elezen bodies everywhere--at least a dozen people, some older than Kāthalen, with a few even younger than Coroh. None of these poor souls died well either, with one woman in particular that looked like she dragged half of her body across the grass trying to reach someone else. K'thalen hadn't seen such merciless brutality in decades; and with a gentle pull of his hand, he guided Coroh back behind him, hoping this memory wouldn't forever mar her psyche forever. "What happened hereā¦?" She asked with a raspy whisper, seemingly unable to catch her breath after witnessing such a gruesome spectacle. Kāthalen didn't answerā instead he slowly began to back away, holding onto her shoulder to stop her from looking.
His heart sank when a wagon popped open, and out stepped a man covered in blood, still adjusting the belt on his pants; inside the overturned cabin was a naked woman recently slain--and by the contorted rage still lingering on her swollen face and the terror in her blackened eyes, she too did not go down without a fight. "What do we have here?" The man asked, spitting into the grass as he took a step closer. He pushed two fingers into his mouth and let loose a sharp and wet whistle, causing several others to emerge from the nearby shadows.
"Just travelers passing by." Was all Kāthalen said, keeping his eyes locked onto the man while his ears turned independently of each other to keep track of his buddies; they were surrounded, and the last thing he wanted was something terrible and irreversible to happen to the girl.
"Travelersā¦" The man repeated, wiping the blood from his face with a filthy rag retrieved from his pocket. "You're a long way from town."
"He's armed." A Roegadyn warned, tightening his grip on a huge battleaxe that was still dripping with blood.
"It ain't loaded." Shrugged the man. "They rarely are. And even if it was, wellā¦ doubt he has enough." He smacked his lips as he leaned over to the side, catching a glimpse of Coroh. "You shouldn't be here, girly. This is no place for angels."
"Sheās so beautifulā¦" Called out another, this one from his left. "Look how soft and fluffy that tail isā¦" A shiver ran up her spine as she clung to K'thalen, almost pushed up against his side like she was desperate for warmth. He could feel her trembling, but he said nothingā his mind was racing for a way out of this precarious situation.Ā
"From where I'm standing you have two options." The man adjusted his pants while he stared down K'thalen with malice in his bloodshot eyes. "You keep walking and liveā¦ and we take her. Or you fight back and dieā¦ and we take her." They reeked of death, of lust, and of filth. The Woodsin permeated off their skin like a foul musk, threatening to choke the two Miqo'te caught in the middle of this nightmare. "So? What will it be?"
"One Hyur with a sword, two Roegadyn, one with an axe, the other unarmed. One crossbow wielding Viera, and whatever is behind us." Kāthalen clenched his jaw with a hundred different possibilities; his heart slammed against his chest and he couldn't hide his fear for much longerā all he could think about was what they were planning to do with the girl. "Coroh." His voice was barely a whisper but it startled her all the same. "Soon as I moveā¦ run. As hard n'as fast as ya can." One of his ears turned behind them, hearing the faint crunching of the grass as the bandit crept closer.
āLast chance!ā The man spat, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his sword. āWhatās it gonna-ā
Kāthalen shot his hand up, grabbed the butt of his rifle, and in one fluid motion he whipped around to face the biggest threat; the enemy Elezen had just enough time to drop the knife in his grasp and gawk at the end of the barrel! BLAM! In an instant his blue eyes and the top half of his head disappeared in a bright flash and turned into jellied paste! Kāthalen didn't hesitateā he turned back and went after the next biggest threat! BLAM! The Roegadyn dropped his axe and crumbled to the floor, with a ceruleum slug entering his chest with an ilm-wide hole and leaving his back with a four ilm-wide exitā taking his heart along with it!
"RUUUN!!!" He didn't stop to look down at Coroh, but he heard her panicked breath and the scurry of her feet! A sharp pain burrowed into his shoulder, a stone arrow shot from the Viera pinned his arm to his waist near the elbow! Even amidst his stagger he shot from the hip! BLAM! His shot was off the mark from aiming with one hand, but he still took the archer at the knee and sent him rolling and tumbling down the hill!
"AAAAHHH!!! THALEN HEEEELP!!!" Her ear-piercing shriek pulled him away from the next threat to see the other Roegadyn grabbed her by the tail and yanked her to the ground!
"Come here gorgeous!" He held her down with one giant hand and tightened his fingers along the stitches of her tunic to tear it off! "Just a tasteā¦!" He cackled, high from his lust! "Just a-"
BLAM!
The back of his head split open like a crushed melon, causing the Corpse to collapse on top of the terrified girl! Kāthalen turned back just in time to block a thrusting stab from the Hyur with his rifle, but the force still caused him to stagger! Tripping on the Elezenās corpse, he fell back hard, knocking the wind from his body! The Hyur jumped on top of him, discarding the sword lodged into the rifle in an attempt to clamp his hands around his throat!
They rolled with each other further down the incline, stopping only once they slammed into the overturned wagonā disoriented and still trying to catch his breath, Kāthalen was unable to stop the man from climbing back on top of him, this time keeping his arrowed-arm from interfering by planting his knee over it! Kāthalen pulled a knife from his waist and thrust upwards, desperately trying to find purchase somewhere in his chest, but he caught it with both hands!Ā
"Aargh!!!" Kāthalen roared like a trapped animal, summoning all his strength into his arm to prevent the Hyur from turning his wristā but it was not enough! "RAAAAAGH!!!"
"Shhhh!" Cooed the man, smiling fiendishly as he overpowered him! Saliva dripped from his lips as he exhaled through his mouth, with two empty green eyes wide with murderous intent glaring down at him! "Itās almost over. It's almost over." The edge of the blade scraped across the iron buckle on his coat in its way to align with his heart, and the Hyur then leaned forward to begin pushing it into his chest! All Kāthalen could do was kick and squirm beneath the man in a desperate rage, but he was out of options; his eyes widened with fear and pain as he felt the cold steel piercing his skin, plunging deeper and deeper into him! The manās grin grew from ear to ear while he watched the panic in his eyes, the one last moment for a dead man!
āHURK!āĀ
In an instant the man was off him, slumping over onto his side after what sounded like bones snapping filled Kāthalenās ears; he let out a painful gasp, instantly pulling the knife out and tossing it away as he laid there in shock. He could hear the sound of metal striking flesh, and he slowly looked over with bloodshot eyes to see Coroh over the Hyur; she raised a dented and bloodied frying pan over her head before bringing it down onto the manās face, again, and again, and again. The man no longer had much of a face by the time Kāthalen had summoned enough strength to roll over onto his stomach and rise to his feet.Ā
āCorohā¦ā He coughed, rubbing at his chest woundā if it werenāt for Coroh wiggling free of that Roegadyn he shot and grabbing something heavy enough to help, he would have been a goner. Slowly he took a few steps forward, before collapsing onto his knees again. That snapped the girl out of her frenzyā¦ she blinked as her senses returned, and she dropped her murder weapon before rushing over to his aid.
āAre you okayā¦?ā She asked, even as the tunic she was wearing was torn and destroyed. Blood covered her face from the bludgeoning, but she didnāt even noticeā she slipped underneath his good arm and hoisted him back onto his feet. Kāthalen was about to pass out from the exhaustionā¦ or at least he would have, if it werenāt for the faint cries coming from the other side of the overturned wagon. His eyes widened as he struggled forward, hope flashing in his eyes at the possibility of a survivor from these depraved bandits; but as they rounded the corner, his hope was replaced with hate.
The Viera was clinging to his ruined leg that was hanging on only by a few tendons. He was in pain trying to move, trying to escape. He looked up at the two Miqoāte and raised a bloodied hand. āW-wait..! Donāt kill me, please! I-I-Iām newā¦! I didnāt kill any of these folks! Honest! I was just following ordersā¦ p-p-pleaseā¦!ā
Kāthalen didnāt speak. He planted a boot on his rifle and pulled hard on the sword stuck inside, eventually freeing it with a grunt and a stumble. Slow steady breaths filled his lungs to calm himself, with enough strength returned to allow him to walk by himself. He picked up his rifle and brushed off the dirt and mud. Coroh stepped aside as he approached the wounded bandit again, who was still trying to beg for his life. āN-n-no! Please! Wait!ā
Click!
Empty. Kāthalen was already reaching into his coat pocket to reload despite the Viera flinching hard enough to soil himself. āThalā¦ā Coroh warned, gently placing a hand on his wounded arm. He stopped to look down at the girl, before following her gaze; up on the hill was a diremite, staring down at them with eight glistening eyes.
āThe Woodsin really is realā¦ā Kāthalen clenched his jaw as he shouldered his rifle. He didnāt like the idea of these innocent folks becoming bug food, but there were no survivors. The Viera noticed the diremite skittering down to investigate further, followed by three or four more of the vilekin.Ā
āWait! Donāt leave me with them!ā He begged, but his voice fell on deaf ears. āWAIT! WAAAAIT! AAAAUGH!ā
Kāthalen and Coroh hobbled away long after they could no longer hear his screams.
This was what had gotten him exiled in the first place.Ā
Sera smiled as he leaned forward and looked over the edge of the tall, towerlike perch that rose high above the civilian center of Valdrakken.Ā
There was something about exploring ā seeing new places, meeting new people, eating strange foods ā that tugged at him the longer he stayed in one place.Ā
The elders had frowned on it. Going beyond their small villageās borders was a high crime. After all, seeing new places, meeting new people, and eating strange things proved them to all be liars. His wanderings as a teenager had been a violation of his town and familyās trust.Ā
Outside their small, strange little cult the world was pretty wonderful. Well. Aside from all the wars. He could definitely do without all the wars. Heād been lucky enough to avoid fighting and trouble. Even in hardship, heād always found enough coin on the ground, fallen out of wallets and pockets, to get him a meal or room for the night.Ā
The wind whistled in his ears and ruffled his hair as a dragon grazed the edge of the platform, just missing him by a few scant inches. Stuff like that didnāt frighten him as much as it used to. After all, he was always lucky. Uncannily so, in all things. Heād stopped questioning it pretty quickly. Something about gift hawkstrider mouths and teeth, which was probably a really badly translated saying.Ā
His comm occasionally lit up in his lap, the little group text he had with Annya and Ryland sparking as they flirted. Heād found them through his wanderings, too. Both bright and wonderful in their own ways.Ā
Maybe theyād come wander a bit with him, too. Not tonight ā this was a good recharging night ā but soon.
"Memories are such a delicate thing, easily removed and replaced if you know what you are doing. Which, of course, I do."
The woman tilts her head and shakes it from side to side. "Too bad I couldn't remove my own memories. I couldn't take away that you let my mother die, not once, mind you, but twice. You think I don't know what you did!"
The woman's voice picked up; for a moment, Santana saw her sister Dementri, standing there. She swayed, and tears flowed down her cheeks. "You don't understand. I tried to save her."
"Save her? Save her!" You turned her into a monster. A mad woman whose mind was destroyed entirely. From what I have been told, she was no more than a rabid dog. And you did that!"
The woman stalked toward Santana, her face contorted in her rage. "She saved you! You, a woman so powerful that time has sometimes bent to your will. And you are telling me you couldn't save her. That you couldn't get this one thing right!"
Santana cringed. Tears continued to slide down her cheeks at her niece's words. "I tried! I don't know what went wrong. She should have ended up like me not, not deranged and out of her mind. I can only assume because her mind has always been slightly broken trying to change her into what I was broke it completely. I'm sorry, more sorry than you can imagine."
Sasha draws back her hand, and it comes down across Santana's cheek hard enough to cause her head to twist to the side. Santana didn't stop her. The pain of such an attack was nothing compared to the pain she felt inside about her sister.
She just stands there, tears streaking her cheeks, her eyes full of pain and sorrow. She didn't expect any pity from her niece. She could see in the woman's eyes that she blamed her for everything, that the loss of her mother had destroyed her as much as it had damaged Santana.
Instead, Santana slowly went down to her knees, bowing her head. For such a woman as the raven, this was unheard of. She kneeled before no one. It told a great deal about how beaten the raven felt.
"What are you doing?" Sasha is taken aback by this, unsure of her Aunt's actions. "Get up! Face me!" But Santana remains where she has kneeled.
"Isn't this what you wanted, Sasha. A life for a life. Your mother gave hers to me. I give mine to you. Then it will be even." The words came out soft and sincere but also defeated.
Sasha pauses, unsure what to do. The woman kneeling before her looked almost identical to her mother. They had, after all, been identical twins.
Still, she had had every intention of punishing her Aunt, torturing her. And yes, perhaps, in the end, she might even kill her.
She hadn't expected Santana to give her life up so easily. She could hear the pain in her Aunt's voice, the tiredness, the complete and utter sadness.
Sasha turns from the woman and shakes her head. "Guards! Take her back to the dungeon. She is to be given nothing but water tonight."
Santana doesn't move until the guard grabs her by her wrist and drags her to her feet. He forces her toward the doors. Santana looks back at her niece, and although the woman's back is to her, she can see her shaking and knows she is crying.
How long had the woman waited for her revenge, weeks or months? It was clear everything had been carefully planned out. She wanted her to suffer, for Santana to feel her pain, yet Santana already felt her pain.
The man tossed her in the cell and closed the door behind her. Some water was pushed inside a small opening, and she grabbed it, drinking it immediately, realizing her mistake too late.
She retched, and her body seized. The room spun out of control, and she saw her sister take form out of the corner of her eye. No! Santana screams. Anything but that.
But Sasha wanted to torture her, torment her, and she knew exactly how to do so. It would be hours before the hallucinations would subside.
Santana lay curled into the corner of the bed, shaking, having tried everything to push the images of her sister away but to no avail. Now she just stares off into space, her mind ravaged.
It would be days or perhaps weeks before the door would open again. Time had lost meaning in her days of torture.
When it finally opened, a man would enter, arguing as he did so. "How dare you, Sasha! You have violated this family. We all swore in this family to always protect each other. A blood oath that you have broken!" He gathers Santana in his arms, noticing how thin and frail she has become.
Santana can't move, she can't speak, barely even alive. She can hear Sasha's rebuttal but can't make out the words exactly. Everything is fuzzy, a ringing in her ears that doesn't seem to go away.
She hears the two arguing more, and the world fades to black again.
Trenton, Santana's brother, notices that the woman has passed out and continues to his carriage. He gently lays his sister in on the seat opposite him, and another woman is immediately over her, examining her.
He turns back toward Sasha. "Your mother would be ashamed of you." Sasha flinches, but the snarl on her lips turns her hurt feelings into anger. "She deserved everything she got. My mother suffered for months; she has only suffered for weeks. I would have let her go eventually."
Trenton shakes his head. "You will have your grandfather to deal with. And have mercy on your soul. For he will not."
He lifted himself into the carriage and gave his niece one last glance before he shut the door and ordered the driver to leave.
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