#The Ember Blade Archives

[nevermore-grimes]

HOLY SHIT!!! I’M LITERALLY SHAKING OMG!!! I FOUND THEM!!! I FOUND MY OLD PARACOSM NOTEBOOKS!!!

Oh my god, I thought I was gonna throw up… Oh my god…

It’s gonna take me ages to digitize them, but I took pictures of all the pages so I didn’t have to get caught with the real copies (it took me, like, an hour and I was sick with anxiety the whole time).

So, please enjoy some really old arts that I drew of some of my paras (terrible art warning below the cut, lmaooo!).

*NOTE*: Since these designs are old, they do not exactly reflect how each of the paras depicted look today.

[michaela-o]

Hey guys !! Here's a little writing post for tonight since i once again suffer from art block and i couldn't really get my thoughts on canvas so at least i'll write them down for you🥹🫶🏻

I had a little poetic moment about Cybertronians and how each bot from the Lost Light might view humans in their own way. Here’s how i think a few of them might feel, translated into their own brand of poetic musing:

Rodimus

"They’re like embers scattered on a night’s breeze. Small, insistent, daring to claim a spark of the vast unknown. Fragile? Yes, but isn’t fragility the very flame that burns the brightest in the dark?"

I think Rodimus sees in humans a little bit of reflection of himself—bold and driven, yet so often skimming along the edges of destruction. I think he would admire their recklessness despite their short lives and finds in them a kinship, like stars burning out as they fall.

Drift

"With hands of flesh, they reach for the stars, tiny pilgrims, undeterred by dark. They are warriors bound in tender shells, yet their spirits are sharper than any blade."

I think Drift sees humanity’s journey as sacred, an unlikely pilgrimage. Despite their fragility, they pursue wonders that many would fear, displaying a purity of heart that resonates with his own search for purpose and redemption.

Brainstorm

"They are puzzles, equations, broken in ways no theorem can solve. I could build them stronger, make them last longer, stretch their days to years—yet it’s the ticking clock that drives them which we cannot touch, the glitch of life within the code. They’re impossible, improbable—beautifully, infuriatingly unsolvable."

For Brainstorm, i think humans are the ultimate enigma. So imperfect, so baffling, so limited by their biology—and yet, somehow, they thrive. Their existence nags at him, like a problem he can’t quite crack, but one that has woven its way into his circuits.

Ultra Magnus

"They obey no Prime, no order, no code, yet they find honor in dust and devotion in ruin. There is chaos within them, yet in their eyes—clarity. For all their flaws, perhaps they see the law of the universe far better than we."

Ultra Magnus finds himself both exasperated and quietly moved by humans’ defiance of logic. I think he might struggle with their disorder but recognizes the strange beauty in their conviction. They possess a kind of honor that is beyond his ability to define—a law unto themselves.

Chromedome

"Stories woven in short threads of skin and sinew, their lives stitched in seconds, minutes, hours—a blink of a shutter. Yet they carry tales, so rich and raw, that I cannot forget. They are memory incarnate, fragile as newborn spark, but so full of color."

I think Chromedome would treasure humans for their stories, for the vibrant, bittersweet memories they create within the boundaries of their lives. Every moment for them is fleeting, and so they seem to capture life with a vibrancy he longs to archive.

Swerve

"They bumble and fumble, awkward yet bold, finding joy in the smallest things. They laugh in the face of a world so vast—their clumsy courage, a song I want to know by my spark."

We all know Swerve loves humans and human things. I think he sees humans as charmingly imperfect, stumbling yet fearless in a universe that dwarfs them. Their humor and resilience bring a joy that he can’t resist, as if they were a song that lingers in his circuits, warming him in ways he would never expected.

Megatron

"They are the dreamers, the fools, the ones who hope, rebels in skin who believe in the impossible. I have seen it. They build kingdoms on bones and dreams, believing they can change the world."

Megatron is an amazing character in my opinion in the Lost Light universe. I think he looks upon humanity with a blend of scorn and admiration. They are so weak, yet so defiant—champions of hope despite their powerlessness. Their resilience reminds him of what he once fought for, and though he might deny it, he can’t help but see in them a reflection of his own self.

Ratchet

"Flawed and failing, breaking with each breath, they stitch themselves back with their tender hands. They fall, they fail, yet rise again reminding me why I mend the wounded steel."

I really like Ratchet. I like to think he regards humans with a mix of exasperation and reluctant respect even when he wouldn't directly word it. He sees them as frail and imperfect, breaking down as quickly as they heal. Yet, their resilience, their refusal to give up despite everything, is what keeps him caring deep in his spark. In their struggles, he finds purpose, and in their imperfection, he rediscovers his own reason to heal.

I hope you liked this silly little post for tonight. I hope the art block goes away soon so i can draw more silly robots and their silly lil human friends together :3🧡🧡🧡

[kaihuntrr]

part twenty-five: the huntsman.

Martyn makes a run for it.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

In. Out.

Breathe.

Martyn took ragged breaths as he forced his numb legs to move. Step by step he forced himself forward as the night’s haunting and slow winds turned sour and blistering as it turned against them and blew smoke into their path. His pace was sluggish. The others had to periodically stop to check on him or drag him over a particularly rough patch of terrain.

He was slowing them down.

At least they were all going to make it out together, right? Martyn nodded to himself. Think positive thoughts. It’d serve them best if they could just keep thinking positive thoughts.

“We’re nearly out!” Puffy grinned, as she ran just a couple steps behind Katherine, who had been leading the group back through the forest. “Come on, let’s go!”

Martyn’s heart raced. He couldn’t see much smoke- at least not yet- but he could smell hints of it from behind. Charred wood, flickers of ember, burnt grasses and flowers- all leading to a bright blaze. He had to move faster. They all did. 

They had to move. 

They had to leave. 

They had to move! 

They had to leave–!

Martyn looked straight ahead, trying to quiet the rampant thoughts in his head as he swore his pace grew more sluggish. His breaths were labored as he attempted to keep up with the others. His vision ran blurry as he felt his heart explode in his chest. 

Then he tumbled. 

Martyn fell on the ground with a harsh thud, groaning as he looked behind him. 

A thick root wrapped around his left boot. Martyn attempted to move- get his foot free from the boot at least- but he couldn’t. He swore he could feel the roots almost dig into his boot…!

He looked around, preparing to scream for help, but saw the glint of metal on his belt.

Right! Martyn thought. The knife!

He sat up, twisting his body to reach for the knife the stranger had given him. He leaned in close to the roots, cutting it free from his boot as he periodically looked around him. 

Martyn nearly jumped as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders. “Martyn!” Grian shouted. His eyes widened at the thick roots on Martyn’s boot and pulled out his gun. “Don’t worry, I’ll–!”

“You’re only going to make that worse!” Katherine cut in, glancing at Grian and Martyn. Her eyes rested on the knife for a split second, then she shook her head. “Leave him with me. The rest of you should go on ahead.”

“Are you sure?!” Tubbo chimed in. “We could get out of here together–”

“And risk the fire catching us first?” Katherine’s voice grew louder, more stern. “We’ll get out of here, now GO!”

Katherine crouched down beside Martyn as the others ran.

“Jeez, you got yourself pretty stuck there!” She laughed. The bright smile on her face eased Martyn’s breathing. She was calm. He should be calm, too. She pulled out her sword and began to slice away at the thick roots with ease. “Come on, help me get you out.”

The two of them made quick work with the roots. Martyn cut through the roots closest to his boot while Katherine chipped away at the sides. He couldn’t help but notice how often she glanced at the knife as she worked away at cutting him out.

Katherine let out a sigh of relief as she sheathed her sword, standing up and reaching her hand out to Martyn. “We should walk a little,” she said, looking around. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the forest, staring off at the direction they ran from. “I don’t think you can manage running if your ankle’s all twisted.”

Martyn took Katherine’s hand, “You’re probably right.” He stood up, but the moment he placed pressure on his left foot, he stumbled almost immediately. He would’ve fallen, if not for Katherine catching him at the last second. The fall caused his knife to slip out of his hand, thudding against the dry grass.

Martyn noticed Katherine’s slow look towards the blade and narrowing her eyes. “...Is something wrong with it?” 

“N-No. Nothing’s wrong.” Katherine quickly replied. She wrapped one of her arms around Martyn’s waist and the other on his arm, lifting him up as she walked closer to the knife. She was eerily quiet. “...Where did you get this from?”

“Someone gave it to me.”

Katherine leaned down to pick up the blade, turning it over to examine all of the details Martyn assumed she was able to see. 

Martyn assumed the stranger had given him a regular combat knife, but….

It definitely wasn’t normal.

There were some scratch patterns on the knife’s blade, definitely intentional as it was almost glowing in this strange teal light. The butt of the knife had a small and pretty iridescent scale. 

Katherine mumbled something under her breath.

“Katherine…?”

She didn’t move.

“Katherine!”

She stared at the knife with her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Katherine, the fire’s getting closer!”

That woke her up. 

Katherine suddenly jerked into motion. She stooped down so quickly that Martyn nearly lost his balance. But in one smooth motion she was upright again, shoving the hilt of the knife into his hand. “Take care of that. The someone who gave it to you must care about you a whole lot.”

Martyn wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Katherine didn’t give him time to contemplate. She dragged him forward by the arm around his back, forcing him to either limp along with her or fall on his face. 

Martyn shoved the knife into its sheath and did his best to walk while not putting weight on his injured ankle, though it was feeling better already.

The two of them moved quickly. Over the course of Katherine’s dragging, Martyn eventually found his footing. One foot after the other, he followed behind Katherine as they left the forest. Martyn couldn’t help but notice the distant stare on her face as they left. Her mind was probably clouded from her thoughts on that knife. 

But he couldn’t think about that now.

Not when they were so close to the exit.

Martyn nearly shouted in relief as he stepped out of the forest and into the now somewhat comforting mist of Crescent Bay’s outskirts. He didn’t like the thought of finding this place comforting. This entire island was out to get him. Get everyone.

But he froze as he heard the rumble of thunder. 

Rain.

The thought of being burned alive in the forest was already plaguing his mind. Even if the thought was slowly disappearing from his mind, he could feel the embers pricking his skin. He could almost feel the cold droplets of rain hitting his skin, even if the clouds hadn’t opened to a storm. He didn’t want to get drenched. He didn’t want beasts to come at him. He didn’t want a bigger target pointed at his back.

“We need to go!” Katherine shouted, as if she could hear Martyn’s panic. He could hear her panic through her words and through her actions as she grabbed his wrist and ran quickly. Martyn nearly stumbled to catch up to her as they ran into town.

Thunder continued to rumble above their heads, brief flashes of lightning passing through clouds as Katherine and Martyn entered the oddly comforting old town. Martyn shouldn’t get used to it, considering that they were leaving as soon as they got to port. 

The town was dark, but it was still bright enough to see the streets around them. Martyn’s heart leapt as he could hear the distant sound of the sea. Oh, how he missed that salty sea air, the passing tides that rolled lazily against the ship, the cool air of the ocean flowing around him. 

And the adrenaline of taking a new monster down.

Though this whole venture of just escaping the island and being chased down by a witch was enough of an adrenaline rush as it could be. Martyn was too busy running for life to really register that they were escaping one life-threatening event and heading straight into another. On top of that, they were running away from a fight instead of engaging with it- and they had a whole other crew to deal with! It felt like the world was constantly shoving them down with so many things to do, they couldn’t even focus on their main goal!

But….

Something odd stuck out to Martyn as he and Katherine rushed through the streets.

There was mist.

The only time there was mist was when…

Pearl wasn’t here already, was she? That was impossible. 

Martyn looked behind him. No signs of anything. Then how come there was…

Martyn saw Katherine start to pull away from him when he slowed down to look back. He couldn’t dive deep into his thoughts again. He had to continue. He had to catch up.

“Katherine! Martyn!” Martyn’s eyes lit up as he heard Scar call from a distance down the misty street, waving the two over to him and Grian. He was barely visible through the mist, but as they grew closer Martyn saw him give them a relieved smile. He and Katherine stopped in front of him as they caught their breath. “You’ve made it!”

“Of course!” Katherine grinned, smacking Martyn’s shoulder and pulling him in for a quick hug. “He’s just fine.”

Grian and Scar smiled back, but Martyn’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. Grian and Scar had met them next to a building, some type of closed down general store with its front porch stacked with wooden crates and a hanging sign, but Cleo and the Kites were nowhere to be seen. Martyn glanced at Katherine, who appeared just as confused as he was.

“Where are the others?” Martyn asked.

“They went ahead,” Grian tilted his head to the empty streets before them, the path growing more shrouded underneath the haze of the unnatural mist. “Scar and I wanted to stay here and wait for you two.”

At least that’s more people safe on the ship. I hope they’re alright. 

Martyn stared down the path before them, a shiver crawled up his spine.

I hope they make it to the ship.

“Thank you, Grian, Scar.” Martyn nodded at his fellow Canaries. He may have been overthinking about things, but it never hurt to be courteous. Grian and Scar should have gone with them, but traveling in groups sounded better than traveling in pairs.

“I think we’re far enough from the fire to just walk. I don’t think it’ll burn far past the forest and I assume we’re all tired,” Grian began to walk, leading the group, “Besides, with all this mist, we could bump into something.”

“Yeah…,” Martyn glanced behind him again. Still nothing. He narrowed his eyes and sighed, “Let’s… take it easy.”

Just like any other time he’s been walking around this place, it was as silent as ever. Martyn longed for the ambience of a living city once more. To pass by distant conversations, to hear laughter in the streets where locals walked and ran around town to get where they needed to be. The residents here might as well have been dead with how silently eerie they were. Judgemental stares. Hollow expressions. If it hadn’t been for Pearl taking him, the Canaries would have been long gone by then.

The only ‘reassuring’ sound of life was the sporadic thunder and wind howling above them. The wind sifted through some of the mist, clearing away the hazy veils for the group to walk through. Martyn focused on his heartbeat and breathing with each step, his hands prematurely curled into tight fists in case they encountered Pearl.

He had attempted to feel for his gun, but sighed as he realized Pearl had likely broken or tossed it when she took him. Just how much strength did that lady have? She had knocked him out in a single hit he hadn't even seen, then dragged his dead weight who knew how far through the forest, and hauled him into a chair. Martyn grimaced at the thought of how helpless he'd been under her hands, unconscious and weaponless. He reached towards the small of his back so he could feel the strange knife's hilt against his hand.

“We’ve learned a couple of things about the Kites while you were gone,” Grian’s voice drew Martyn back into the real world. Martyn must’ve been gone for a good while for the two groups to be all buddy-buddy, but that was preferable to them being at each other’s throats. “Apparently, the ocean at the world border was just as empty to them as when we found it.”

Martyn’s thoughts ground to a halt as his mind immediately flashed to the image of the sea prince.

The world border was empty, practically nothing but smooth sailing.

But there had been a sea prince.

It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume it ate everything in there. He’d seen it eat the scuttler. The hairs on Martyn’s arms rose. Maybe the monster didn’t eat him because it was too full to eat him. Martyn was saved because the beast didn’t bother to eat him due to its full belly. Or maybe he was just too small….

He had to think of something else.

Martyn zoned back to the conversation. “O-oh?” he looked at the vagabond hunter unmasked with curiosity. “Hey- Katherine, how did the Kites’ ship get destroyed?”

“A boneback got us.” Katherine shrugged, “it was swarmed by scuttlers after, but we hadn’t seen another beast otherwise. The Kites were all pretty disappointed.”

Scar glanced at Grian with a teasing grin. “Maybe they got all scared when we arrived.” Grian shook his head, rolling his eyes with a small smile he didn’t really try to hide.

Martyn wanted to talk about the sea prince right then and there, but he closed his mouth and shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain his feelings yet. He couldn’t formulate the proper sentences in his head yet either. 

“Ha! Like you guys are that formidable,” Katherine laughed a little before shaking her head. “I try not to think about it as much, though. I’m only thankful there weren’t any deaths.”

No deaths? That confirmed that the sea prince really didn’t eat the other hunters because of its…. 

“Wait,” Scar paused, also stopping abruptly in his walk as he stared at the ground cross-eyed and looking at Katherine, perplexed. “So a boneback destroyed your ship, but it didn’t attack you at all?”

Katherine paused, looking up at the cloudy sky and hummed. “Nope, not at all,” she said casually. “Maybe it’s just a thing for the monsters at the world border.”

“That’s a little strange, isn’t it?”

Katherine shrugged. “Yeah, but,” she crossed her arms, “you’re also probably thinking about it a little too hard.”

Martyn tilted his head. “How?”

“No one’s really studied the beasts beyond the world border, let alone near it,” Katherine said flippantly. “Who knows, maybe the way they kill hunters off around here is with starvation or something.” She mumbled, her eyes staring at the ground.

An odd chill ran down his spine. 

“It’s a little morbid, but do you see what I’m getting at?” He could hear Katherine continue to speak as Scar and Grian looked at each other with some kind of knowing expression and nodded.

“Maybe we should try and investigate the world border more often…,” Grian muttered, but Katherine quickly shook her head in reply.

“I’d strongly suggest against it,” Katherine glanced at Grian. “You may have been lucky now, but what about later? Maybe the monsters do swarm, and you just got lucky the other day.”

“Or if a sea prince lurked by.” Martyn felt hot as the trio’s eyes landed on him. The words had fallen out of his mouth faster than he could even think of them. “It- it would just scare all the beasts away, right?”

Katherine shifted uncomfortably.

Katherine was the first to speak after a long pause. “...I guess? That is a… possible explanation.” she spoke slowly, like the gears in the back of her head turned as she made sense of Martyn’s words. “But no one’s ever seen a sea prince before, so I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that! You’re going to see one soon.”

The group froze as they heard Pearl’s voice. Martyn slowly turned around. He saw Pearl standing in the center of the mist filled street, staring at them with her menacing grin and casual stance. She didn’t look like she had been affected by the fire at all– nothing indicated she had nearly gotten burnt alive. She looked exactly the same.

“Pearl!” Martyn glared at the witch. “How did you–”

Pearl stepped forward. “I told you, I have my ways. Now,” she pulled out one of her sickles and pointed it at Martyn. “You are coming with me.” she hissed, venom dripping into her voice. 

“I think I’d rather risk the sea,” Martyn spat. “RUN!”

The four of them took off down the street as fast as they could run. Scar pulled ahead, his mechanical legs built to have extra bounce in them, with the lightweight and light footed Grian right on his heels. Martyn felt left behind even after a moment, his injured ankle twinging as his foot jolted when it hit the pavement. But Katherine stayed at his side, even though he knew she could run faster than that.

Pearl groaned. She started to run, picking up the speed as she inched closer and closer to Martyn with both of her blades unsheathed. “Oh no you–”

Katherine suddenly lurched backwards and caught Pearl in a chokehold, nearly pulling her off her feet.

Katherine sent both of them down on the ground, letting Pearl absorb the fall as the hunter’s arm wrapped around the witch’s neck. Pearl’s face collided in the pavement first, her sickles skidding away over the road as she attempted to roll out and get Katherine off her back. Katherine retaliated by shifting her weight over top of Pearl, tightening her arm around Pearl’s throat.

“Go! Run! I’ll catch up!” Katherine shouted. Pearl wriggled underneath her, but Katherine kept the witch pinned. Martyn had stopped running the moment he realized Katherine left his side. He stood in place, frozen. Katherine looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. “Martyn! Go!”

Martyn flinched at his name being called. What was he supposed to do? Help Katherine? But before he fully registered the motion, he was moving, following her orders. Martyn turned and left her there.

Martyn ran. He watched as Grian and Scar disappeared into the mist and his own sluggish attempts to keep up. It was hard to put pressure on his foot, as he could feel himself tumbling with each step he took. If only he wasn’t so careless, he wouldn’t have tripped in the first place!

He could feel the pain on his ankle worsen, his thoughts running rampant in his mind as his heartbeat drummed in his ears. But he had to keep running. He had to make it back to the ship. 

And since Katherine was able to get a proper hit on Pearl, she could make it too! She just had to!

 He could’ve even ran right past the ship with all the fog by now, though– it was a miracle he hadn’t tripped yet–! “Hey,” Katherine bumped Martyn’s shoulder. She was here! She glanced behind, then looked forward. “Nothing to worry about for now, let’s go!”

Martyn’s adrenaline kicked in as he attempted to follow Katherine’s pace, but the hunter was much faster than he was.

Pearl’s enraged shriek echoed in the distance, but Katherine gave Martyn a reassuring smile as they bolted through the streets.

Before Martyn could reply, Katherine continued to speak. “We shouldn’t be too far from port,” she put a hand to her ear and giggled. “Listen for the ocean. You might hear it before we reach it!”

With the whole ‘running for their lives’ event going on, Katherine was remarkably calm. Martyn glanced at her, seeing a confident grin on her face as she ran forward. Martyn smiled, feeling something building up in his chest as he ran. It was confidence, comradery. He finally believed that they would all make it out of here alive. If Katherine was so confident, then he should be too.

Maybe… he could convince her to join the Canaries’ crew. She’d fit right in.

Left, right, twist and turn, they were making progress. Martyn couldn’t even hear Pearl anymore, but he wasn’t sure whether to consider that a good thing or not. Katherine kept glancing behind them every so often but just kept pushing forward. They navigated through the misty streets of Crescent Bay, somehow not running into anything.

“How are you so calm through all this?!”

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Katherine forced a laugh, shaking her head. “I think I’m just so used to the chase that it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

How much running had she done? Whenever Martyn was on a chase, it was usually by ship. He would barely need to run after his targets, just enough energy to run around a boat. Katherine’s lungs must be really strong to have all that air in her.

Martyn looked at Katherine and smiled, saying through heavy gasps, “I’m glad you’re here with me, Katherine.”

Katherine’s eyes widened as she stared at him for a split second, several emotions flashing across her face too quickly for Martyn to read, then she smiled and nodded. “Likewise.”

“Just a little further…!” Martyn felt his legs about to give up, but his heart sank first.

Martyn and Katherine abruptly stopped as they were faced with a wall at the end of the street they’d taken. Some unlit torches rested on the sides of the alleyway, boxes haphazardly placed on top of each other as vines grew out from the top of the wall and reached the bottom. The wall was made out of concrete. He looked up, seeing a small balcony with a couple of crates on top. But it seemed too high to jump too. There was nowhere left for them to go….

Martyn’s heartbeat drummed out of his chest as he tried to catch his breath and think, but his breathing quickly became rapid and panicked as he heard Pearl’s footsteps faintly echoing from the far end of the dead end street. 

It had definitely been better to not hear Pearl earlier.

Pearl ran one of her sickles against a wooden wall of one of the buildings at the end of the street, the metal scraping against wood as she came closer. Then she stood before them, at the far end of the street, blocking their only exit. “Can’t run from me now, can you?” she asked as she slowly walked down the street, her eyes’ piercing gaze focused solely on Martyn.

“Get behind me.” Katherine pulled out her sword and stepped in front of Marytn.

“I- I can fight for myself, Katherine.” Martyn pleaded, wishing he could believe it himself. He didn’t want a person’s blood on his hands. 

“After all the trouble you’ve been through?” Katherine shook her head and took a step forward. “I suggest you save your energy. We still need to make it to the ship.”

“Aww, a hunter sticking up for other hunters,” Pearl rolled her eyes, pretending to gag at the sight. She spun her sickles around and sighed, “You’re giving me a lot of trouble, Hunter, and quite frankly, I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

“Like you haven’t been causing enough havoc,” Katherine snapped, sounding irritated rather than angry. “Why do you want Martyn so badly?”

“He’s Chromia’s little pet,” Pearl hissed, taking another step forward as the sickle scratched the wall. “I’m doing him a favor. I’m helping him. He’ll be better once that insect is gone and he’s done feeling sorry for it.” She pointed her sickle at Martyn as she called him an insect. 

Katherine suddenly went very still. Even as she moved, she seemed still. Her back straightened and her head turned, eyes widened as she glanced from Pearl to Martyn. Martyn saw something in her eyes, something not quite like pity and not quite like fear, but between those two. The grip on her sword trembled as she seemingly forced herself to take in shaky breaths. She shook her head and let out a long, deep breath, looking forward with a calm expression.

“Martyn,” Katherine whispered, just barely audible, “You should be able to scale that wall, right?”

Martyn looked behind him, cataloging the contents cluttering the dead end with that in mind. Boxes. Vines. Enough for the both of them to scramble over.

“Yeah–,” Martyn cut himself off. Wait. She- she’d said ‘you’- Martyn, not ‘we’. No. No no no. She could not be serious. Martyn placed his hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “Katherine, do not play the hero.”

“Keep going, Martyn,” Katherine said, a bit too quietly. “Remember who you’re hunting for.”

Remember who you’re hunting for.

But– Katherine had taken Pearl down with a quick choke before! Granted, that had been by surprise, but that meant that Katherine was a better fighter… right? She seriously could not be planning to–

“You need to get out of here,” Katherine moved her shoulder away from Martyn, her gaze locked on Pearl as the two stared each other down. “I’ll catch up.” Martyn was about to retort, but Katherine cut him off. “If I don’t,” she mumbled, her voice shaking, “sail on without me.”

“But–”

“I have a gun,” Katherine’s grip on her sword became stable, her breaths slower and heartbeat calmed. “If I shoot three times in the air, you go. Promise that to me.”

“Katherine, don’t–”

“Promise me, Martyn!” Katherine raised her voice. She didn’t look at him. Martyn’s heart twisted.

“Okay… I- I promise….”

Katherine cast one last look at Martyn, as she charged forward.

“You cannot be serious,” Pearl hissed, then she raised her sickle to meet Katherine’s blade, “But fine. If that’s how you want to play… come at me, Hunter!”

Martyn ran to the wall as fast as he could with the sound of blades clanging against each other. His heart pumped him with adrenaline as he reached it, steeling himself to look up at the wall instead of the fight behind him. He couldn’t look back. He shouldn’t.

Metal scraped against metal, producing the metallic screeches as Martyn desperately stumbled on the boxes and climbed the vines, hauling himself up the side of the wall.

Then, he climbed all the way up. 

Martyn wanted to collapse, the exhaustion from the climb and the running beforehand taking its toll on his body, but he knew that if he stopped now, Pearl would get him. 

But his heart froze as he heard the familiar sound of metal distantly skidding against the ground, and a sudden silence.

Martyn risked a glance.

Katherine breathed heavily, pointing her sword at Pearl, who looked to be just as exhausted as she was.

Martyn stared at Pearl, watching blood drip from a small cut on her forehead.

That… that wasn’t… That wasn’t blood. It couldn’t be blood. It was hard to see against the darkness, but if Martyn squinted his eyes hard enough, he could make out a faint tint of yellow… but no… it can’t be.

“Oh you’re in for it now.” Pearl’s eyes were wide as a grin crept up her face. 

Martyn needed to get out of there. Now.

“MARTYN! GO!” Katherine roared at him. Martyn flung himself over the side of the wall, wincing a bit as his ankle twinged. But he forced himself up and started running. Katherine’s voice drifted after him, much softer than before, “Don’t look back, Martyn.”

Katherine’s final words were what pushed him to get out as fast as he could. Martyn ran, his chest heaving as he made his way across the last strip of street and back onto the familiar feeling dock. 

He had to get on the ship. 

He had to return to his friends.

He had to get back home.

He had to fulfill his promise to Scott.

He heard the clang of metal blades ringing through the mist-thick air. But Martyn did not look back.

[chokopoppo]

Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: Discworld - Terry Pratchett Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maladict/Polly “Ozzer” Perks/Alice “Wazzer” Goom Characters: Polly “Ozzer” Perks, Maladict (Discworld), Blouse (Discworld), Original Characters Additional Tags: Non-Graphic Violence, Military, Intrigue, Minor Character Death Series: Part 7 of Six Months Passed.

An hour passes, and the rain keeps going. Then two. Then three. Temple lies down and has a cigarette, half-propped up on his pack. Polly unsheathes her sabers, one at a time, and sharpens them. For a long time, the sound of the stone on her blade, and the sound of the rain, and the sound of the embers crackling, are all there is to hear. And then… “Why’d you lie about your age when you enlisted, sarge?” Temple asks. The birds always stop singing right before the weather gets bad, but Polly hadn’t been paying attention, and they’d gotten caught in it. She used to be more careful than that. Her hair is wet on the back of her neck. “What makes a little lad like you,” Polly says carefully, “say a little thing like that?”

[savebatsartedition]

Whumptober 2024 Day 14:

Summary:

Hiccup and Toothless have separate paths, but they do meet. Prompt pieces used: LEFT FOR DEAD | Hunting Gear

Notes:

My one and only wing whump. (Tail whump?) This was really awful for me to write. :( Content Warnings: Mentioned mind control, injury causing loss of flight. Words: 1,019

(Fic also under the cut.)

While the boy was safe in is fathers arms, the dragon was already feeling the allure of the Red one. While the boy was stumbling down the stairs on his way to dinner, the dragon was dropping his first fish into the pit. While the boy was being caught and comforted, the dragon felt his stomach rumble from too much sacrifice. Neither knew how long things were going to go on for, but they wished for something more.

The boy took on an apprenticeship, something nice, something simple, something way different from all the others. He was crafty, and he excelled, but he did not enjoy what was happening.

The dragon took to the skies, feeling the cool wind brush down his scales. This was freedom, up here, where even the birds didn't go and the other dragons stuck by the queen's side like a bunch of fleas. This dragon didn't feel the pull the way they did, at least, not once he was up in the sky.

The boy did try to do the other jobs, but he wasn't meant for throwing water onto flames, or standing by and watching as the dragons stole his sheep. He wasn't good at mixing potions, or sewing tapestries, or laying foundations. 

He wasn't good at listening to his father.

The dragon was good at what he did. Swoop down, scoop the water and the fish, fly back to the nest, drop his catch, repeat. Repeat on and on, until the Red one had had enough. His wings let him slice through the air at speeds that no other dragon could. He didn't think much of it.

He was a dragon after all.

The boy did his best at his mentor's side. He was good at sharpening blades, once he got them over to the sharpening stone, he could work a fire, keeping just the embers alive for as long as he could want to. He could even make specific weapons for customers, from scratch! (His dad said that made him crafty and interesting, but it was always so clear that the boy wasn't the boy that his father longed for.)

Lately, he had been experimenting with the extra metal scraps. If he couldn't lift the weapons that he so lovingly made, he might as well find another way to use them.

The smooth wood of his new invention felt like the softest wool under his fingers. The heavy weapons inside felt positively weightless as he rolled the wheels so carefully around the shop. The power he felt... that was unmatched. He was finally going to be the boy his dad wanted him to be.

The dragon just kept on flying. He flew and flew, and he caught and caught. The fish were soft and weak in his jaws, sliced to pieces by his teeth when he playfully unfurled them. The queen liked the fish he brought, and always roared for more. The queen liked when he came back smelling of smoke and burning villages, it liked when they all did. 

The dragon was never on the chopping block, he always got his job done.

The boy finally got the chance he had been looking for. He rolled up his sleeves, threw off his apron, and began to run. The weapons stand could remain unmanned for a few moments, right? He just had to catch himself a dragon, and he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

His invention, so strong and sleek, it made him stronger than any other. He could do this, he was going to do this.

The dragon was a streak of purple death in the night.

The boy nearly fell on his way to his hunting spot.

The dragon roared in victory.

The boy shot.

Pain.

Blood floating through the sky.

Loss of altitude.

The dragon fell, screaming as something held his body, screaming when his wings refused to open, screaming when his fin would not move at all, screaming as he met the trees of the forest below.

He did not know what had ensnared him, he didn't even know why he couldn't feel his fin. He could not beat whatever thin thing was holding him, he didn't feel strong anymore. Even away from the Red one, he wasn't free.

The boy found him. He found him there, but he couldn't do it. He just couldn't. His knife dropped, but it did not meet the dark flesh of the animal. He sliced through something awfully tough, but the beast before him didn't scream or roar.

As wings slowly unfurled, and legs slipped back into motion, the boy kept at his work. This was something he could do.

The dragon lept and roared, but when he took to the skies, he could not stay. His tail was off balance, it hurt. He didn't know why. He couldn't open his tailfin, couldn't take advantage of the leathery wings on his back. No. He couldn't return to his queen.

Again he fell, and this time there was no small boy to help him out, no roots to grab onto as he climbed, and no way to eat something to make his aching muscles feel any better.

The boy made it into dragon training. He made it into the place that his father would finally appreciate him.

But he didn't want it anymore. He couldn't do it anymore. All he wanted was to know if that poor dragon was safe. All he wanted to do was get back to blacksmithing, pretend this never happened.

But he couldn't.

And worst of all, his father wasn't even here to watch him become the son he had always wanted. The boy knew he couldn't do it without his father, but even more so, he couldn't do it with the memory of the fear in that dragon's eyes.

While the boy was training, the dragon was doing his best to climb. While the boy was crying, the dragon was realizing that there was no way out. While the boy was trekking back through the woods, the dragon had all but given up.

[edelgarfield]

show me how ruin makes a home (4/4)

Relationships: Astarion/The Dark Urge, Lae'zel/Shadowheart, The Dark Urge & Shadowheart, Astarion & Lae'zel Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Chapter Excerpt:

“I was raised to be a blade, to serve my queen until my dying breath.” The corners of her mouth tighten. “I was never taught anything aside from Vlaakith’s will.” A chill runs down Astarion’s spine, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Lae’zel’s eyes dart away, burning gold in the low light. “I find myself tormented by desire like never before, visions that have no place inside a a weapon forged from steel.” Astarion follows her gaze to Shadowheart’s tent, the flap closed to shield the cleric from the campfire’s final embers. Astarion can’t help the incredulous laugh that bursts out of his chest. “Lae’zel, are you asking me for relationship advice?”

Continue on AO3

[scarletslament]

Sharp Thorns:

Started: February 1st, 2021

Finished: February 4th, 2021

《︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎♡︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎》︎

This takes place a few months after my last entry of the series. There will be some topics which might not be suitable so be advised and read with caution my dear reader, because this deals with thoughts of suicide and self inflicted cuts. Now please enjoy this entry of Shallow Dreams! And little note...I’m sad to say I wasn’t able to find any of the previous parts of this series. This is a major loss because it told the story of the first protagonist and her adventure but with this loss I am able to put more heart into these because they will be going into the archive that I have recently made.

《︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎♡︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎》︎

A red haired girl was running through town, her cloak and tunic had a few rips and holes. She didn’t give them any mind because she was overjoyed that her dream was finally accomplished and wanted to tell her elder all about the assessment. Only a few feet away from the mansion Violet would begin to slow down, there was something off about the area. Looking down the ground she was standing on was burnt and seemed to have been newly set aflame. “What is this pungent smell..? It’s so strong, it reminds me of the fireplace on a snowy evening.” She says starting to look around the area, getting concerned as she saw a few embers make its way through the gate that should have been opened. Putting a hand on the gate Violet slowly pushed it open, once open she would run towards the front door of the mansion.

《︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎♡︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎》︎

Inside the mansion everything was destroyed, no sign of the ever prospering entrance she had grown up and worked in for most of her life. This only got worse as Violet made her way to the other rooms, it took many hours of fumbling around the once lively hallways to find her room. All that was left untouched was her closet and desk. “This can’t be real... just this morning I had woken up and prepared to spar with the Pontifex of the academy...I worked hard to beat Miss Astria. For what if all I had left was to be destroyed, I know Elder is in town but where are the others... where the hell is the protector of the mansion she should’ve been here with her brother at a moment's notice!?” Violet began to have a panic attack from all the thoughts that had just begun swirling through her mind. She reached for a box inside her closet, opening it up the box, it had held a few weapons. Grabbing a small brown and green dagger Violet would rake the sharp blade across her inner thigh for a few seconds. Putting more pressure on the blade she would make the wound a bit deeper before snapping out of her delusional state of mind. Realizing what she had done the girl would put the blade down and tear a part of her cloak to wrap around the wound to stop the bleeding. “Oh sweet pardel...what have I done to myself... I need to get out of here quickly.” Violet says as she grabbed a new cloak and a crimson and emerald colored rapier. It’s sheath was the color of her eyes, a deep sapphire blue that one may lose their sense of stared into for too long. Standing up the girl would place it on her belt along with the newly blood soaked dagger she used on herself. Walking out of the room Violet made her way outside of the mansion and went towards the forest to distance herself from everyone for the time being. Until she can look herself in the face she won’t return, perhaps all she needs is a break from everything and time for herself to explore the world. Violet thought as she limped her way through the forest. “I’ll see you later...goodbye Drâl I’ll come back one day and apologize for disappearing, this was the best town I’ve been in. I just hope Drâl doesn’t change much...” She said before turning around and went back to limping away into the lush forest.

《︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎♡︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎》︎

This is the last full part of what I wrote, the next part has been *checks notes* in production for about 3 fucking years. So since I started my first job all my motivation went out the window. I might continue it just for tumblr and maybe just maybe write a new chapter once I have time. While writing these I realized how heavily my mental state influenced my writings which is Cary to say the least which is why I stopped writing aswell but rereading all of this gives me hope that one day I can rekindle my creative attributes. Oh and writing the first part or well making the character is how I found out I was trans so yknow. There’s that.

[saunne]

“Won’t you look at me, Ren ?”

He gulped. 

“Look at them, Ren,” Yingxing snapped, unintentionally drawing Ren's attention to himself. His voice echoed throughout the room, warm as dying embers and resounding like the crash of a hammer on metal. Imposing, commanding even, and allowing no refusal. Not angry but full of bruised pride, of wounded incomprehension.

Yingxing's eyes looked cold from where he stood in the shadows of the hangings, an indecipherable look on his haughty face as he observed them. His gaze had lost the warmth it had when he had helped Blade earlier. Blade, with clenched jaw and gnashing teeth whose gaze had never left Yinyue-jun. Blade, with eyes that kept promising violence and destruction despite its iron will weakened by Ren's inner pleas, wanting a little more, a little longer, just a little more time. Yingxing, that somehow seemed disappointed with Ren's weakness and his state of being so pitifully weak that he couldn't even—

(I never dared to dream of taking my eyes off them, Yingxing seemed to say. Not when their sole attention was always on me, although I never deserved it. I am not you, but you have been me, are me. Don't you dare turn away from them.)

[mraprilfools]

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: Mature

CW/TW: Period typical Racism, F slur, Graphic depiction of insects, Child Abuse, Animal abuse & Death

Summary:

A story about Alastor's beginning's and how he ended up with the chain around his neck. In the confines of a prison he meets a devil, a god, or something else entirely that offers a deal too good to be true... Preview under the cut.

It was always dark in the attic.

And it was always filthy.

Dust everywhere. On walls, the floors, you couldn’t take a breath without it filling your lungs.

Cobwebs webbed on every corner, you couldn’t breach any new territory without it wrapping around your body.

Then there was the musty stench of sweat crawling over Alain’s body. Unwashed from so many days left up in the sweltering hell. He quickly retracted his hand when an insect skittered across it. He wondered if it might be a spider, centipede, roach, or otherwise. Eyes adjusted to the darkness hours ago, he preferred to remain ignorant. So he did not go searching for answers he didn’t want. Didn’t think about it. He focused on the single lifeline he had up here: The light from the Four-pane window.

It was the only connection he had with the outside world. The dying embers of the day stained half the attic in an ethereal orange glow. As if peering into the gates of hell. And some days? He felt like opening the window and taking that leap. He’d cast his body to the flames if it meant he could escape this silence.

Escape the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. The company he shared in these four dark corners. And the looming presence of something he could not be sure was imagination, madness, or… a demon that stepped through the glowing orange gate.

Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk. Shkshkshkshskshk.

One could argue it was a squirrel. But it was far too constantly skittering across the ceiling above him. A crumbling of dirt fell into his hair, greasy from the days left unwashed. A large rat sped past him. Ugly, matted fur, red beady eyes, with a short pinkish tail, torn at the end. Alain’s eyes fixated on it, watching it nibble on the leftovers of the meal his mother prepared him yesterday. The unwashed, ragged face of the boy reflected in its glassy soulless eyes.

A heavy wind hissed through the trees outside the window, a large gnarled branch stretched banging against the window. Shadowy tendrils in the outstretched yellow light crawling across the floorboards only just out of reach. Waiting. Simply waiting to drag him to hell.

How did he end up here?

Well-- He’d been a very, very, very bad boy.

A man insulted his mother. And he sought to make him into something far more polite. He’d practiced on many creatures before. Cats, dogs, birds, even pigs. But, never a man. The drunkard was far bigger than him, stronger too. But strength and size weren’t everything. The dullard was fond of day drinking and far too confident around a child. He never expected to wake up with a blade in his throat, and the impassive eyes of a child holding it down to silence his burbling protests.

When he kicked the body into the gator-infested waters, he felt far more guilt for soiling his mother’s dear kitchen knife than what he’d done to him. To Alain, the sailor had been no better than the rats feasting on garbage. A cold corpse was an improvement over the blithering idiot he once was. It was…easier than he thought it would be. It was… empowering, life-changing. A realization of his power to change the world around him.

When Alain got home, his first instinct was to wash the blade in the sink. Alain didn’t want manman’s cherished knife to rust! He didn’t care about how he tracked swamp mud through the house, or how it stuck to his clothes mingled with blood. Brand new clothes soiled by the swamp waters still secondary to the things his mother cherished.

When Manman wandered the house, Alain could always tell by the daintier footsteps on the floorboards. Those always meant safety to him. Serenity. Peace.

But he feared the heavy stomping of boots. Those belonged to his father. Or as he called him in his mind: The Beast.

The way he stomped around his grounds making his authority known, feared wasn’t the picture of a loving father or a doting husband. It was a beast that wanted control over what was under its roof. The heavy footsteps made him a doe in the woods.

If it remained constant, that was fine. It was his father’s neutral state. What does he truly need to watch out for? Was the silence. When it became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. When you could hear the rush of air hissing through his nostrils and his teeth. The beast didn’t use words. It had to hiss through its jaws and strike violence so you knew to not provoke it.

If you were lucky, it would be the drywall. More than a few holes littered the house where a fist punched clean through. A reminder that it could have been him if the transgression or noise had been any worse. The handyman of this father would plaster them in places, but the off-color still told the story of many nights of undirected rage.

[nevermore-grimes]

Why did middle school me write Nevermore as such a cringefail loser? 😭

[writingnocturne]

burning, cold, and anger :3

To Be Born of Many Hearts

Notes

Thank you for the first ask, Flora!! :) I'm surprised (but really grateful) to already have gotten around 5 or so! <3 Your three words had a lot of angst potential, and the first thing that came to mind was this (which I'm actually splitting into two one-shots, as it lined up with another idea I had on the back-burner and need to get back to). This is based on a mix of the Skyward Sword manga from the Hyrule Historia as well as the lore from the game, with a few nods to some other things there... Those of you who know my personal Hylia headcanons may know where this is leading, but I wanted to keep it vague for a level of mystery! :)

Sneak Peek

《 The skies tremble.

A spirit lingers on the steps towards a glistening temple. The flame of poes— the hearts of all beating together to create his form— spark from his body and reflect on every blade of grass. With his breath, the forest breeze flows… yet, even still, the air hangs heavy.

This place is typically one of gentle warmth. It is one of beautiful tears, like those shed while relishing the splendor of a simple sunrise. In the coming twilight, however, there flickers embers of a golden wrath.

Although he is present wherever humanity shares their own spirits— their courage, their hopes, their strength— he tries to ground himself to this entrance. He forbids his endless soul, just for a time, to keep its distance. The spirit is lesser than what transpires within, after all, and not even the mortals that often call this place home are permitted to trespass now. 》

Ao3 Link

Word Count: 1,022

Prompt Post

This is for a little ask game I'm doing for short fics! You just send me three words and I'll write from them! See the full post here.

[silverstarstrike]

"Brothers Under the Sun" ☼ Chapter 1

Crow was a lone Lightbearer tormented by the sins of his past life. Faolan, the Young Wolf, knew about the sins of the Forsaken Prince and knew it became personal. As the shadows of inner demons both Lightbearers had, they would find kindred spirits within each other and a brotherhood begins. Like any relationship, however, there will always be challenges.

☼ Prologue ☼

The forest was holding its breath. Nary a bird or insect would make a sound. The scent of smoke thickened the air around Faolan. The edges of their robes were blackened and burned. Their knuckles whitened under their dark gloves as they gripped a fiery sword. In front of them, an oak tree’s bark was stripped clean off by the blade, revealing the darkened insides.

Faolan threw their helmet to the side, a clear crack streaked across the dark visor like lightning in a stormy night sky. Their unkempt brown hair bristled, and rings of orange light shone around their pupils, creating two perfect solar eclipses.

“YAAAAAAAAAAGH!” Faolan let out a pitiful battle cry. Their voice was hoarse, and their throat strained.

The Warlock struck against the oak. Some lands hit precisely, ash and bark flying out with every impact. Most, however, landed clumsily. Their grip weakened, their footing slipped, and they landed knees-first next to the tree. Faolan managed to anchor themselves by leaning on it before they dropped their sword. It disappeared in mid-air.

After a minute, Faolan’s Ghost would finally show himself. His shell slightly twitched at the sight of his Guardian. He hasn’t seen them that ragged since the Red War. His one eye blinked when he heard them coughing. He didn’t need to scan them to see their lungs straining under usage. He slowly floated over to meet them. Another ragged cough, and the Ghost could see Faolan cough up flecks of embers. The rings of light in the Warlock’s eyes dimmed only slightly.

The sound of cawing caught the pair’s attention. Faolan would bristle up again as they would struggle to stand up. They stared at a black crow that just so happened to be making a racket up on top of an unscathed tree

Read the rest on Archive of Our Own ☼ "Brothers Under the Sun" - Prologue

[awriterofdivinedreams]

Blade of Evil’s Bane (14 words) by AWriterOfDivineDreams Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Master Sword - Character, Fi (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: Haiku-esque, Poetry, Character Study, Not Beta Read, Contains Author’s Commentary in the Notes, Consensual Servitude, Consensual Abandonment, Bittersweet Series: Part 17 of Overture of Poems – A Legend of Zelda Poetry Collection Summary: “Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight… The sacred blade is forever bound to the soul of the Hero. […] Over the seas of time and distance, when we need the golden power of the Goddess, our hope rests in you, to be forever by the Hero's side.” – Princess Zelda from Breath of the Wild

Happy anniversary Breath of the Wild!*

[ascianblood]

Eva Lore (FFXIV) - 6/15/23

A dump of lore for my FFXIV au oc Evangeline for my own archival. Not to be mistaken for Alaqa, who is the canonical version of Eva. TRIGGER WARNING FOR: Mentions of mental and physical torment, suicide, and homicide. 

Basic Information: Evageline Kagon (born Alaqa Kagon). 25 years old. Au Ra, Xaela. 4′9.  Alaqa was as any other Kagon tribeswoman, who spent most of her time under the cover of the night hunting beasts for meal and sport. She was very good with blades, but preffered her dual knives over a more traditional spear. She was so remarkable with her blades that the tribe often relied on her to bring back game from hunts and prepare them accordingly. There isn’t much to mention about her childhood or family, but they were stable and very close. She had one older brother, Orin, and two younger brothers, Dei and Dodai. I’ll probably make a more in-depth post about her familial relationships at a later date. 

As she grew older, she started having rather violent nightmares out of nowhere; horrible views of people being ripped to pieces, their flesh torn asunder, as well as vicious screams. She could hardly even stand to sleep, let alone hunt or participate in tribe activities. She found herself feeling isolated and perturbed, anxious that what she was seeing was a premonition of suffering from the Dusk Mother. Her family worried for her, but she refused to elaborate on her sudden changes. Eventually, the terrors became so pronounced that she refused to sleep altogether, for she would wake in a writhing fit, unaware of her surroundings. 

And then came the voices. Rather than the screams she had known, these voices whispered to her in frightened tones, and repeated over and over for her to leave. She couldn’t stand it anymore, so at the break of dawn before the sun could crawl over the Steppe’s hills, she left her home. She knew that she would never be allowed to return, but the voices urged her, almost controlling her. So she fled, as far as her meager feet could take her.  Upon the shores of the Ruby Sea, she stowed away within a Confederate vessel and prayed that Nhaama would release her of her torment. It must have been over two weeks of scavenging within the small confines of the ship when she landed in Limsa Lominsa. Her condition had stabilized since leaving the Steppe, but the voices had been replaced by a burning migraine so heavy she felt as if her whole body was a flaming ember.  She needed money. Badly. So when she arrived in the city proper, she lent her blades to odd causes. The procuring of meats, perhaps bodyguard duty here and there. Sometimes, a hit request; her first real taste in spilling mankind’s blood. Her Lominsan connections grew, and she was forwarded to the Adventurer’s Guild. There, she was officially enrolled, and continued with her tasks until she was approached by Jacke, leader of the Rogues. Dual blades being her specialty, she agreed to join them. It was here that she adopted the name that Jacke gave her, Evangeline, or “angel”. Her membership within the Rogue’s guild ultimately lead her to the Scions as well, where Minfilia promised her aid from her migraines. The story goes as MSQ does, but Eva never truly becomes better. In fact, she becomes more and more unstable the more animals, men, and gods she fights. Every ascian battle left her uncomfortable, but for a reason she could not place. Unknown memories started finding their way into her mind, like lost puzzle pieces. Minfilia never could rid her of her pain, and after her passing, Eva felt as if she had been cheated. Once friendly and outgoing within the Scions, she became colder. She still seemed kind, but on the inside, she was becoming jaded; nihilistic, even. In SB, she truly changed for the worst when Zenos made an appearance. At this point, she had grown an aqquired lust for blood, whether it be man or animals. She needed to kill, and Zenos matched her need with his own. She was beginning to lose sight of reason. It took all of the patience within her not to cut down the very beings she called friends.  And then in ShB, Eva is met face to face with the ascian Emet-Selch when he so kindly introduces himself. It is then that she remembers fully. The Sundering, her relationship with him, and how their beautiful life had turned sour so quickly. She knows she must speak to him, and they do, alone in her chambers of the Pendants. He reveals to her that he had been calling her for years now, hoping she would find her way to him. The Nightmares, the voices, the constant headache, and the memories; all of his design, for he had forced her sundered soul to remember things which she otherwise would have never remembered in the first place. She hated him. Despised him. It mattered not their previous relationship, as loving and gentle as it was. The pain of thousands of years was still fresh within her mind, a gaping wound pried open that she had not had sufficient time to heal, unlike his millennium of recovery. Yet she knew that she still loved him, as vile as he had become, and when he offered her his hand in comaraderie towards the goal of recovering the sundered world, she accepted. All of ShB is spent with the two together, secretly working together in favor of the rejoining. Emet is always with her, but not in view. The only times the Scions know he’s there is when he willingly allows himself to be seen.  Their relationship becomes one of physical desire and lust, but being far beyond the path of reason, also becomes one full of pain. A love and hatred so deep that they know not how to deal with it effectively, leaving only a truly broken reflection of their previous relationship. Emet enjoyed using her like a tool or a toy, and often reveled in the monster she had become. Eva, in turn, grew so restless that she craved for the deaths of anyone she did not care for. There is a constant battle throughout ShB because Eva wishes to slay all of the Scions, but Emet refuses to allow her to do so as it would completely ruin their plan. She even thought about the death of Emet herself. She wanted things to return to how they used to be, but at the same time, she was so far removed from feelings of love. In the end, she figured that the sooner she died and was reborn as her full self, the better.  This continues until the final battle with Hades, where Eva pretends to kill him. No, she does not kill him. She knows she could, but he had become her only source of entertainment, and she knew that their plan would ultimately not fail. She was a rabid dog on a leash, following his command. Elidibus is another story. I’ve not fully thought out why she fells him, but for now, let’s say it was because she cared for noone at this point other than Emet, though she despised him.  In EW, Eva’s story ends with the end of the entire world. Fandaniel’s summoning of Zodiark marks the end of her life. In the original version of this story, I let her and Emet die, but not be returned to their ancient days. I am thinking of allowing the possibility of the rejoining working, and them returning as whole beings with all of the trauma still stockpiled from their previous incarnations.  This is all for now. I really just like to draw them and their ridiculously horrible relationship. 

[yunessa]

Up to a point I could deny that everything was building up. An angel sword? Oh, how lucky to have an angel sword. Going to Elysium and meeting Azatas? Even luckier! Few mortals ever go to Elysium, much less see an Azata. It had the start of a heroic story, but I didn’t want to be a hero so I ignored it. We had gotten a blessing to suppress my curse, I got a nice sword and a good story to tell future crowds. But Finnean ruined it. It was no longer ‘a bard gets lucky and finds a nice sword and gets a good story to sing’. It became a story where someone, somewhere, somehow everything was getting in line to make me a hero or a crusader or something. I thought about it long and hard as we travelled the few blocks to Blackwing Library.  It felt strange. I had no connection to Mendev or Kenabres itself.  But by seeming random happenstance I held an Angel’s blade in the depths of my being. I had walked through Elysium and spoke to Azatas. A magical sword that had, at some point, been a flesh and blood man. To many random gifts from the heavens that seemed familiar. It was the start of a hero's story, the sort you see sung in high end Taverns. But I had no idea what heroic quest was about to be given- more like dumped on me- from the skies. I racked my brain wondering what could happen. There were rumours of a fifth crusade that was imminent- but those had been going on for two decades. There were whispers that Cheliax was getting aggressive. I made a note to ask Daeran later- he had mentioned living in the city for well over a decade and since he was related to the Queen he might be aware. Ember knew nothing. At least, not anything that made sense to me. Seelah knew the rumours I’d already figured out on my own. Camilla shrugged when I asked. I would need to speak with those at the Defender’s Heart in depth when we returned. Woljif knew what was happening at the ground level, but not around- surprisingly he continued to stick with us, looking far less tense now that his name had been cleared. Aravashinal was uninterested in conversation,anxious to see his library.   All of the stories, poems, and books I knew offered me no clues. This was not the obvious work of any God I knew, nor spirit, nor fey and I had never had dealings with demons.  But somehow it all felt familiar while being not. Like the answer was close and within reach but I couldn’t see it. If I had more than a few hours before I was attacked outside of Kenabres then maybe I would have found myself more knowledgeable than I was at the moment. But it’s difficult to plan ‘avoiding the apocalypse’ in your day when you didn’t see it coming.  Once we got back to the Inn, I promised myself I’d talk to everyone who’d spend time.  There are very few people who actively dislike bards, and fewer still who hated music. Add a charming smile and kind words and I was certain that I could get information. We just had to find the storyteller and I could start getting more answers. -Yunessa

The Blackwing Library was gone. A three story library that had been maintained and added to for a century had been torn apart by Khorramzadeh as if it was made of paper mache . Only the front of the building  and a quarter of the first floor remained. Even Deskari had contributed to the destruction- his scythe had left a wound through the middle of the library so deep it made a chasm over twice the size of the library.

Aravashinal had summoned a wind elemental when they reached the library, unwilling to believe their words. The wind elemental had returned in short order, reporting much the same that the group had told him. Aravashinal would have collapsed if Yunessa and Seelah hadn’t been there.

Despite their efforts, Aravashinal hadn’t spoken since, looking nauseated and in shock. Yunessa had put their long coat over him and he’d clutched at the coat as the air elemental whispered a soft whistling. Aravashinal allowed Seelah to lead him.

“Do ya see that?” Woljif asked Lann as the group was forced to move around where the chasm started. “That scythe took out the library! It-”

Lann made a shush noise, glancing towards Aravashinal. His eyes lingered over the chasm that had been made but he tactfully kept silent about it.  “The Storyteller should be here, right Yunessa?” 

“Should be. We’ll search everywhere we can and bring him back to Defender’s heart. Then we’ll rest for the night- regardless of what happens.” Despite brief rest, Yunessa had noticed the rising level of weariness and beyond that- it wasn’t good to be out here for longer than a day. Not when bodies littering the street had become so common Yunessa had begun to gloss over them like the pacing stones in the road.

“I agree with that plan. I would rather seek out a fire.”

“Will we have bread for dinner?”

“You can have whatever you want Ember- I’m sure there’s bread there. Maybe soup or meat as well.”

Contrary to the outside, what was left of the inside of the Library felt inviting- if one ignored the structural damage and the filth that stuck to the floors. Yunessa had lit their way with a cantrip and the magical orb of light illuminated filthy blood and oil streaked tiles. Cracked tiles were barely hidden by the damaged parchments and books that had been scattered or torn. 

“I can hear noises further in.” Yunessa murmured. “Keep an eye out- we don’t know if they’re friends or not.”

The noises from the inside grew louder, low voices, laughter and as they entered through the archway into the reinforced great hall, it all paused.  On the far end lay a massive pile of books where four bound bodies lay.  In front of the book pile stood three crusaders clad in dirtied armour.  Their leader- or so Yunessa assumed- turned to face them, his features hard to read in the light.

“Follow after me.” Yunessa murmured to the group. “And do as I do.” 

Barrels of flammable alchemical substances littered by the reading tables. Recalling Camilla’s words on them Yunessa weaved through them, instilling purpose. A stocky knight with a mess of black hair watched Yunessa as they approached. His armour was flecked with blood and filth and he put on a smile

“Ha, fellow crusaders?” The Knight’s voice was deep and booming as he puffed up on Yunessa’s approach. “Excellent! I am Captain Chaleb Sazomal, and these are my men. I am about to burn these vile back stabbers and heretics here, these pathetic imitators of the traitor Areelu who tricked their way into the ranks of the crusaders!” He gestured behind him ad Yunessa spotted an additional fourth to the pile. They were all severely beaten- that much was obvious by the colors blooming over their skin. The one strange elf looked old. 

We never look old. What is this?

The emblems on the two crusaders accompanying him bore the symbols of a different order than Chaleb’s- a burning lance piercing a book. Chaleb’s armour bore the symbols of a Sarenae affiliated order- Sarenae’s symbols wove around a familiar crusader insignia. Different orders did not share Captains, even Yunessa knew that much. Too much philosophy and combat differences.

A familiar feeling welled inside Yunessa. “What happened to the Library?”

“Demons.” Chaleb shrugged. “They showed up and carried everything away. I wasn’t here to see it myself. I was fighting in the square. But these filthy traitors told me everything. My fists made them quite chatty!” He let out a loud, grating laugh that made Yunessa want to grind their teeth.

“So you tortured them.” Seelah’s voice was flat, keeping an arm around Aravashinal. The Librarian continued to lean against Seelah as the wind elemental raked gentle hands through Arvashinal’s white hair. “Do you think that’s worthy of being crusader?”

“Under ordinary circumstances? No! But look around sister! The city is burning, there is no time to be squeamish or to hold back for the good of Kenabres!: Chaleb gestured at the found bound prisoners. The two crusaders accompanying Chaleb were tieflings and paused to watch the discussion.

“Then why are we burning them?” Yunessa spoke up before Seelah could continue. “This looks like a waste of time Captain and not merely because of the resources involved in this…” Yunessa gestured idly at the pile as if CHaleb was burning leaves rather than people.

Chaleb was talking loudly- pleasantries and jovial words- as he looked at Yunessa. He would look to the pile, to the prisoners he bellowed threats at - in shock and seeming utterly terrified- while casting sidelong glances and offering a smile that reminded Yunessa of a cheating husband they had seen a half decade back.

Chaleb howled like a wild animal cornered and upset. “Look around you!” He gestured wildly, eyes starting to lose focus. “The city burns! In ruins! So many innocent lives lost because of abominations like these here! Cultists! Heretics! Spies! All slipping into our ranks and preparing a heinous death for us all! They want to give  us to the demons!” Chaleb was speaking all the right words, the proper crusader feverish emotions in his voice. But somehow Yunessa just wanted to yawn as Chaleb continued. “Just like Areelu did with Sarkoris! They deserve to feel the flames licking their legs and burning alive!”

Yunessa had seen similar behavioural quirks before. A half decade prior they had spent a year at an inn playing and had grown familiar with the customers. A continuously lying husband came to mind, his face blurred by time. He also would keep looking sideways and speak loudly while making wide and fast gestures. All the better to keep eyes focused and force attention to himself rather than his current harlot.  

“You come up with nasty words to use against people.” Ember eyed Chaleb sourly. “You call them cultists, heretics, and spies so you don’t have to call them people. Good people, just not for you. You’d feel bad doing this to people- but not heretics. Without those words you couldn’t harm them.”

“Little girl-”

“STOP.” Yunessa bellowed.”IDIOTS.” Yunessa listened to the impulse. “Heed my command in the name of Baphomet!” The words flew out of Yunessa’s mouth and Yunessa was glad they had followed this instinctive impulse. The words hit a target- the crusaders jumped in surprise and looked at each other in terror.  “The new blood is so stupid.” Yunessa complained as if someone was there to offer sympathy. 

A choked noise came from behind and Yunessa turned to see Daeran standing near them, loaded crossbow held in one hand as the other pressed to his mouth. His eyes had narrowed, his lips twitching like he was struggling with all his might to stop laughing.

“We’re everywhere Mortal. Didn’t you know that?’ Wolfjif eyed Chaleb menacingly and his shadow seemed to swell behind him, 

Chaleb started, limbs spasming. When he spoke again it was a quieter bellow, deferential, even. “Sorry! Couldn’t have known, We’ll fix it right away ma’am- sir!” With quick gestures his to fellows began pulling away the barrels of fire they had pulled to the books piled by the prisoners. There was a sense of enjoyment watching them panic. It was even more enjoyable knowing they were so gullible to believe it. The looks of oafish terror on their faces as they were rebuked for their fecklessness. It was a memory worth keeping.

“Chaleb is the name for a crusader.” Yunessa raked a hand through their long hair, sticking the other in a pocket to imitate a sense of boredom. “You’re not a crusader are you?” They side-eyed Chaleb. “Report. Who are you and the sorry lot pulling the barrels away.”

“Chalb Sazomal, former knight of the Order of Everbright Crusaders, deserter! These two are my mates from playing cards, local fences for stolen goods- very reliable Lord elf! We set this ambush and caught three… no, four crusaders! We wish to join the ranks of the triumphant army of the Worldwound!” He was comical in his attempt to impress and his two fellows were no better.

“We could use good lads like them. Brave fighters- with more of them in our ranks, victory would be assured.” Lann sneered at the three and Yunessa choked back a snort. “If only we had more of them.”

If I respond to that I’m going to laugh until  I cry. Lann looks terrible as a cultist.

To distract themself from their thoughts and Lann’s expression Yunessa hummed. “Chaleb still sounds like a crusader name. We should do something about that- it bothers me to hear a paladin name. We should give him a name worthy of a demon. Something good, useful.” Daeran picked that moment to murmur into Yunessa’s ear. “Oh?” They said as if they were considering Daeran’s murmur. “ Well perhaps.” Yunessa pretended to consider for a moment longer before acquiescing. “We can go with Foulsnout thent. It’s a proper name for one of our own.” Yunessa gestured lazily to Chaleb. “You heard it- use the name with pride and shed what you had before.”

Chale - Foulsnout- bit his lip and he thrust out his chest with pride. “Thank you Lord Elf.” Chaleb-Foulsnout furrowed his brow in a display of pretend menace.  Does he think he’d be able to handle his former crusader fellows? He didn’t bother to try hard enough to send my group off. Chaleb-Foulsnout eyed Lannn’s single horn with rapt attention before eyeing Woljif’s horns. 

“Allright, allright.” Yunessa waved a hand. “You’ve plenty of fuel here. It’s time to put it to better use than a library or on Crusaders.” Yunessa would have rolled their eyes but black eyes didn’t show such an expression naturally. Not well, if it did at all.  

“Where would you have us go?” Chaleb- Foulsnout asked and Yunessa pretended to ponder. 

“Somewhere with useful Crusader materials- ah, yes. The Grey Garrison. There’s a library there. Go rig it so if the crusaders try to get in they’ll lose everything.” The former crusader and his reliable card game pals worked feverishly to unwrap the oil barrels at the base of the book pile.

“I like your sense of humour.” Daeran murmured into Yunessa’s ear. His face held all of the amused curiosity his voice didn’t show. ”It’s quite fiery!” His pale eyes were alight with the emotion especially and Yunessa reached back. They didn’t touch his face but their fingers came within a hair's breadth of his jaw as they blew him a fake kiss. 

“Careful. Mind the fire or you’ll get burned.” Yunessa murmured and Daeran lowered his lashes with a slight smile in response.

“Thanks for the warning. But I am absolutely fire-resistant. Even if the flame is ever so charming.” “Are you-” Yunessa’s murmur was interrupted by Chaleb- Foulsnout’s voice. 

“I have more where that came from Lord Elf! I’ll do everything you ordered and just as soon as those Crusaders arrive, they’ll be dead meat! I’ll make sure we get another- no, make it two extra barrels of alchemist’s fire from the Grey Garrison storeroom! Things are absolutely going to liven up there!”

Chaleb-Foulsnot and his annoyances left dragging the barrels with them in such a manner that Yunessa was fairly certain one or more would trip and if the barrels did not break then they would be set afire when the barrels inevitably were damaged. Alchemist’s fire was nothing to use casually.

But then again, Yunessa had no interest in shortening their life by tossing one of those barrels around.

Once they were gone for certain Yunessa didn’t need to say anything- their companions were already aiding the prisoners.The old elf was cut free first and moved in Yunessa’s direction with calm and steady steps. He looked strange, even by elven standards- some of them Yunessa instinctively knew- and his face and body wore their years heavily. Thinning greyed hair, a ragged beard like wires, sightless grey-milk eyes, paper thin skin with a spine curved by age. It was unlike any elf Yunessa had ever known- youth graced them outwardly even on their deathbed. The old elf reached his hand out towards Yunessa’s direction in the perennial gesture of the blind.

Yunessa reached their arm out and let their hand rest atop the old elf’s. His fingers spasmed and his grey-milky eyes focused on Yunessa. He took a moment before speaking with a voice belonging to a far younger man- unexpectedly strong and calm.”Hello. I am Storyteller, and I wish to thank my rescuers. That would be you if I’m not mistaken?”

“That’s the first time I heard of a venerable old-timer having a street name!” Woljif quipped, his hands full with the coarse rope used to tie the prisoner’s hands. Ember hovered over them, offering healing as they took time to recover.

“Sometimes a person can lose their name. But their mama and papa are gone, friends are gone, and there’s nobody to ask who it was. So instead of their name, a person can pick any word that is good. Everyone needs a name…or do they? I don’t know!” Ember’s hands glowed bright with warmth as she healed away a scarlet wound in a prisoner’s side. The prisoner tugged at her crimson tabard.

Yunessa recalled their kind had more than one name.  Most often nicknames were given out as names and their actual names were kept for close friends and family only.= as a drunken elf had lectured them some ten years back. “Is it the name you prefer?” They asked delicately. “Mine is Yunessa- it’s the only one I have and use.”

The old elf nodded slowly, offering a weak smile of approval. “I prefer to be called Storyteller. It very accurately describes the sphere of my occupations and interests. In most places that I’ve been, I am known by that name.”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity. Are you a bard Storyteller? If so, you should come perform at one of my parties instead of knocking about in this dusty library.” Daeran gestured at the library. Despite the rain and destruction, it still held some of the quiet charm and appeal it once did.

“A bard? In a sense, I am one. But not the type that performs at festivities or parties. I think many of your guests would lose their appetites or grow bored with my tales quickly.” Despite the blind eyes it seemed as if the Storyteller had an accurate guess where each of them were, with little problem following their voices.

“What a shame. And I wwas so hoping to wheel you out in front of my guests. With your… unusual appearance, you would have caused quite the scandal!” If Storyteller was insulted by Daeran’s words then he showed no sign of it, hands clasped in front of him as Daeran talked.”But lugubrius bards are of o use to me. Half the bards in the city are the same: their repertoire is confined to the One About Loonging, the One That Causes Indigestion, and the One That’s a Complete Waste of Time. I mean, really, how is one supposed to hold a party like that?”

Aravashinal pulled away from Seelah. “Where’s Daeran?”

“And why are you asking for me?” Daeran inquired, his attention shifting to the blind Librarian as he moved around a table. “Are you looking to spread more false reports?”

Aravashinal flushed, shaking his head. “I need you to try and heal my eyes. There’s something I need to do and a child can’t-”

As Aravashinal and Daeran spoke - asking to have his eyes healed right now and Daeran’s sarcasm- Ember came up to Yunessa, beaming at the Storyteller. “My Grandmother looks like you!” She exclaimed. “When I was little my mother and Father would tell me stories. But I have nobody to tell me stories now- sometimes my Grandma does in my dreams, but I always forget them in the morning.” 

Storyteller lowered his head, the corners of his mouth slowly creeping upwards. “For you… I may have a story to tell… but perhaps it is you who has one who has a story for me.”

The other prisoners were talking amongst themselves, checking the others over. One of them, a man with short dark hair, murmured comforting words to his fellow.

“What happened to you Storyteller? This place looks like every demon Lord that came to Kenabres went to take a swing at it.” Yuness gestured and paused as the storyteller’s eyes didn’t move. “It looks like whatever is left of the library was put into a container and shook.”

“A complicated question Yunessa. I would be happy to tell you more about myself-and the burden I carry- but I’d rather do it in another safer place. I know there’s more than one thing you wish to speak about with me and I will of course, render you a service in turn, whatever it may be, as thanks.” Storyteller waves a hand around them. “However at the moment, I wish to be somewhere safer than the present surroundings. My recent adventures have plagued me greatly. I would be grateful if you could help me to a safe shelter of some kind.”

“Typical! You do someone a good turn and instead of saying ‘thank you’, they just ask for more help.” Yunessa turned at Woljif’s words to give him a long look and the Tiefling coughed as he looked away.

Storyteller’s mouth fell into a stubborn set and he raised his head. He wouldn’t change his mind.  And who would want to try and wait things out when they were almost burned alive? It was a fair request and no more unreasonable than any other.

“Go easy on the old elf. He’s had a rough time of it- did you see this library?” Seelah’s frowned at Woljif. 

“Yeah, because we’ve had it so easy!” Woljif returned and Yunessa tuned them out before going to address the Storyteller again.

“It seems as if Aravashinal is getting his eyes treated by Daeran right now. I don’t know what Aravashinal will need to do here. Are you fine with waiting here? We won’t leave so you’ll be safe.”

Storyteller considered Yunessa’s words. “I’ll remain here. Wandering the city as it’s under attack by demons is advisable for a blind man.”

“We won’t leave you- we’re heading to Defender’s Heart Inn to rest ourselves after this.” Yunessa assured and the Storyteller nodded, allowing Yunessa to find him a chair to rest close to the group.

“There’s death everywhere here.” Ember commented. She was sitting atop a pile of damaged books, studying the paper in her hands. A heavily stylized sketch from ‘The Lies Demons Tell: A history and guide’ depicting  succubus surrounded by the creatively murdered bodies of her victims. Sometimes, I think we are all doomed. But then death passes us by, and here we are again. Alive and not dead.”

Lann looked away from Yunessa, talking to Klaem- one of the scholars among the prisoners-. Yunessa’s smile was wide and as Lann watched Yunessa raked their hair back. Yunessa had been doing that repeatedly without the hair tie.  “But you’re an elf mber. You should live hundreds of years and never worry about dying. Little elf girls shouldn’t know such words.”

Ember canted her head at him. Despite Yunessa’s best efforts it seemed as if Ember shed ashes when nobody looked and Yunessa’s hat had a light coating of grey ashes atop it.”When children are thrown into the middle of a war, they learn many sad things. That’s why we have to win the war. So that other boys and girls don’t have to learn what we did.” Ember’s lips tugged into a smile that sent chills down Lann’s spine. It wasn’t normal for a child to smile like that. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I had hundreds of years or seven years.”

“Right.” Lann looked away.  “Is that why you’re here with us then?”

“Yunessa asked me to stay with them. So I think I’ll stay with them for a while. I don’t think the crusaders know what to do now, the war’s gone on for too long.”

“And you think Yunessa does?” Lann watched as Yunessa accepted a book from Klaem, smoothing their hand over the cover. A gleam of their bracelet caught his eyes. “Hey, Ember, What do you think about that bracelet?”

“I don’t know. Soot likes Yunessa though.” Ember hummed, holding the page with the graphic art in her hands. “I think it’s pretty! It reminds me of the nice painter that used to go to the docks every Toilsday.”

“Brother Klaem at your service.” Klaem’s gripe as he reached out to shake Yunessa’s hand wasn’t strong- but Yunessa couldn’t fault him. He’d been through an ordeal, that much was obvious, written all over his Aristocratic features. “We thought we were doomed to burn alive. Thank you for helping us.”

“We didn’t plan to watch innocent men and women get burned live. Are you and your fellow Crusaders going to meet up with your other fellows? If not, we’re all going to the Defender’s Heart, Irabeth Tirabade has set it up for Crusaders and the city people alike.” Yunessa watched as Klaem shifted, wincing. Even the healing Ember could spare hadn’t been enough. But considering he was walking, Yunessa wondered how bad the totality of the damage had been.

“We’re not like the other crusaders- we come from the Order of the Flaming Lance. We dedicate ourselves to the pursuit of hidden knowledge and magical methods for fighting against demons.” Klaem waved a hand at the Library.  “Unfortunately being here was not the most ideal choice when Deskari cut the building in half. We were searching for one of our own- but if our Sister Miammir was here then she either left before we came or she’s, like you mentioned, at a safe place.”

“You can come with us. We’re heading back there once Daeran’s work is done and Aravashinal is ready to go.” Yunessa glanced back.

Daeran’s features held the utmost concentration as he worked. He said he was an average healer, but Yunessa could taste the burnt sugar smell of divine magic and see the focus he applied to his task. Aravashinal, to his credit, clutched at a damaged book in his lap and stayed stock still. 

Klaem followed Yunessa’s gaze. “That would be appreciated. Your daughter did what she could but I’m afraid I’ll be almost useless in a fight. Rest will fix the exhaustion and allow me to have my spells back.” Hearing Ember referred to as their child almost made Yunessa smile.

“The rest of our group is able to cover for you. As long as you can run if need be, Defender’s Heart isn’t far off- the demons and cultists aren’t as plentiful as they were this morning.” Yunessa frowned. “We don’t know if the party is dying or if they’re recalling to amass forces again. Either or, we can make it to the Inn.”

“I- we all appreciate it. Running is painful but I could manage if it came to that.” Klaem agreed.

“How did Chaleb overwhelm you? He didn’t seem like the smartest chip off the old lock.” Yunessa asked. “I want to check for traps before we leave, make sure that nothing will set off.”

“The traitor met us at the door. When Deskari cut through the building we jumped off the second story balcony to avoid imminent death. It was only after that when we had dragged ourselves into the library that Chaleb found us.We didn’t suspect a thing- he seemed like a passionate crusader so we let our guard down. But he attacked us from behind and knocked us out. We didn’t suspect such trickery would come from our own- just surviving to go and hide in the library had drained us. I suspect most of our order is dead now and at the time we were desperate to believe this man was a fellow crusader, a comrade.” Klaem shuddered, glancing back to the pile of books he’d been bound on. “I woke up to my armour removed and tied up atop that pile of books.What a macabre end.”

“That’s always how it goes. You start to think you might be able to trust a fella, and boom, he goes and stabs you in the back.” Woljif snorted. The tiefling had taken to sitting on a table nearby, close to Seelah.

“If you never trust anyone then soon you’ll become a killer just like Hulrun. That’s hardly any better.” Seelah shook her head at Woljif.

“Pah! Don’t start on that again. Fine, fine, you convinced me. You can trust people: But only one in every dozen!” Woljif waved his hand. “I don’t wanna get into another fight with you Sister Seelah.”

Camilla sidled up to stand by Yunessa, inspecting Klaem with a critical eye. Lann moved away from Ember, eyes searching the room once more.

“Will the older elf be coming with us?” Klaem inquired.

“Storyteller? He is. Once Aravshinal is done here we’ll take him with us as well.” Yunessa confirmed.

Klaem’s voice dropped to a polite murmur so Storyteller couldn’t hear him. “We met Storytller while reading in the Library. He was interested in the writings of old Sarkoris and the era before that. The traitor caught him,same as us. Have you ever seen an elf so old before? Not just old, but ancient. I thought your kind didn’t have facial hair, wrinkles, or aged like that. You'd know better of course. I’m not an elf. Maybe such things are commonplace and you keep elves like him away from the wider world? If true then what’s this old fellow doing, walking around and revealing his race’s secrets?”

“An elf with wrinkles and a bear? A detestable absurdity.” Camilla commented before Yunessa could speak up. 

“Hold on there, a beard isn’t the worst thing a person can have growing on their face!” Lann protested. “You should have seen some of the people back in my village.

“The worst thing growing on your face is your mouth-”

“Shut up.” Yunessa interrupted. Camilla had been sniping at Lann whenever she got the chance and it inevitably ended with Lann angry and upset. “This is not the time for this.  Lann, go and keep an eye out for enemies. Camilla, go and  check the other end for traps. I will search Lann’s side.”

Camilla huffed, but followed Yunessa’s orders.  Lann moved as Yunessa told him to and Yunessa exhaled slowly. 

“We’ll be done when Aravashinal is Klaem- do you mind waiting until then?”

When Klaem agreed, Yunessa gave him their most charming smile.

When Daeran’s work was finished, he was weary and sweating, wiping it from his face with a hankerchief that held a bright floral design. Tweezers, alcohol, a few rags, and a considerable amount of his power had gone into his effort. Mending something like eyes took effort, more than he would want to expand normally but….

“It looks good.” He murmured. Arvashinal had risen up as soon as he could, cried over the Library and rushed off to search it- looting it or getting his secrets?  Daeran sat in a woefully understuff chair as he watched. “If I don’t help them then it looks suspicious. You need to help smaller groups more but once they trust you…” He let his words trail off.”You can get away with more.”

Something stabbed at the back of his mind, cold and nauseating. He closed his eyes, listening to things he would rather not. It faded as quickly as it had come, leaving a far to hot pain akin to a migraine in its wake. Daeran sighed, wetting the kerchief with water from his waterskin, hoping in vain the cold would make it go away.

It diverted its attention away from him as Yunessa yelled out. Daeran opened his eyes in time to see one of the stone gryphons shed its stone skin and fly off the plinth it had rested on. It let out a loud roar of excitement as it tasted freedom in the sky. The others startled and reacted but Daeran didn’t leave his chair.

Weird things around Yunessa were commonplace it seemed. But as delightful as Yunessa was,he’d have to leave them soon. Where would he go to that was as far away from this as possible? He leaned back in his chair, losing himself to plans, thoughts, and hopes that would never happen.

“Why didn’t you come for me when it flew away?” Aravashinal hissed.  The Librarian had loaded himself up with as much as he could, every bag, pocket, and hand holding as much as he could fit. “Which gryphon was it?”

“The plinth there? Uh, ‘Old Sarkoris Ancient’ I think.”

“Old Sarkoris? It did certainly come to us around… a bit more than a century ago. A gift- I remember hearing about it in one of my books but-” He broke off with a heavy sigh. “Later. I’ll look into it later. Where are you going Yunessa?”

“Defender’s Heart Inn- everyone is growing tired and we need more than a hour’s rest and a handful of dried oatmeal mix for food. We need rest, to get away from the rain, dry off, and then figure out what tomorrow brings.” Yunessa gestured to the group. 

“Take me with you, please.” Aravashinal looked wary at the reminder of the day. His eyes- black like Yunessa’s, searched the library, soaking in all of the sights. “I want to talk with you privately but this place is not safe enough.”

“You can come with us, of course. We’re all going to the inn now that you’re done.”

Aravashinal nodded at Yunessa’s words.

“Let’s go… there’s nothing left here now but the dead.”

[sidhelives]

Chapter 11: Never Betray the Dark Brotherhood or its Secrets

"So you are alive. I was starting to wonder." Nazir jogged to her side, sheathing his blade.

Diem nodded, her mouth set in a furious line. "The Oculatus knew I was coming. It was all a trap. We were set up."

"Considering most of us are now dead, I assumed as much. And before you ask, no -- I don't think it was you." He coughed, wiping the smoke from his eyes. "Well, maybe I did, but you saving my sorry hide just now sort of erased any doubts. So thanks."

Behind him, the stairs to the sleeping quarters collapsed in a shower of embers, making them both jump.

"We need to get out of here!" Diem growled, looking back the way she had come. It had been clear moments before, but with the state of the Sanctuary, it may not remain so for long.

Nazir followed her gaze and started in that direction. "You've got that right. Only a matter of time before we're roasted alive. You most of all. Come on!"

Around them the timbers creaked and groaned, the sound chasing them out through the winding caves which were, Diem noted unhappily, supported by wooden beams. The main chamber opened up before them, the destruction more palpable now that the vengeful bloodlust had faded. Everything that could catch fire was burning, flames licking the high ceiling and choking the air with deadly fumes. Nazir struck ahead, running for the stairway that led out, but Diem caught his arm, pulling him back.

"Nazir, the forge!" She shouted, a moment before it exploded. They covered their faces as razor-sharp shrapnel ripped through the air, the force of the explosion knocking them off their feet.

Coughing violently, Nazir rolled up to a knee, squinting through the smog towards the exit. "Damn it all," he growled. The way was blocked, the blast knocking loose massive stones between them and the stair. While the boulders may have been maneuverable under normal circumstances, in the current conditions Diem and Nazir would not last long enough to do so. Even stalling her breathing, the toxic air seeped into Diem's lungs, making them itch, and Nazir was coughing furiously.

"There has to be another—" Diem shouted above the roar of the fire, her voice cutting off as a cascade of vibrations rang through her skull like it were a gong.

"Listener," the Night Mother's voice reverberated behind Diem's eyes. "I am your only salvation. Come. Embrace me."

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