Neverquest – Part 158

In the heart of Felwinter, a golden dome swelled over the amber-lit city like the now setting sun. How many generations had passed through those gates? Who could imagine the history within those majestic walls? A figure, cloaked in white threads, gazed up at the dome before beginning the long journey up its heavenly steps. From the sky, she looked like a bug crawling across a leaf, for the dome rivaled the Queen's castle in size and grandeur. Her footsteps were silent against the aged marble. She wished they weren't.

As she climbed, she stopped once to look back, as if she expected another body to be there. But the streets were empty and she was alone.

She tried to shake the thought from her mind. It was always like this after the markets had closed and the common people had returned to their families for the night. And yet she knew it wouldn't be long before the Men were out, scrounging the streets for crumbs left over from the day's events. Despicable monsters, she thought to herself, to eat from ground as holy as this. Why, this hallowed sanctuary was older than their entire race! It burned her so much to see how they had taken advantage of Dai Celesta's mercy. After all these years, they were still finding ways to survive.

Why? She had to know. Why had the Goddess allowed such awful creatures to continue to exist? When would this disease finally be cleansed from their land?

"By Dai Celesta, I will live to see that day," she promised herself on the way up those divine steps. "I'll do everything in my power to make this world as the Goddess intended. I've seen too many good people suffer because of...them."

Them. Those things. Those horrible little beasts that stole their food, plagued their city, and made their children cry.

And it burned her even more to think she had helped one of them. What would the Apostles think? Could they forgive her if they knew her only intention of affiliating with Men was to prevent the resurrection of Sorena? Surely Dai Celesta would pardon such an act. The Goddess would have to understand.

Wouldn't she?

The lone girl turned to the sky, awaiting an answer in the power above. But only the first glimmers of the stars looked down on her. She shuddered. It usually wasn't this cold in the city. Perhaps she had become too accustomed to life in the Abbey...

At the top of the steps, she was met with a courtyard that circled the underside of the blooming dome. There was a smaller dome inside this one—with a fountain of water that began at its apex and flowed down all sides of the miniature dome to form a maze of gold-rimmed pools through the courtyard.

The girl dropped to her knees next to one of these pools and dipped her hands into its warm waters. How she had missed this place... How many months had it been now? The troubles she had felt and the concerns about the future began to wash away under her fingertips.

The doors of the smaller dome opened.

"Sister Rachelle," came a soft, elderly voice. "Welcome back to the Temple of Life. We didn't expect you back from the Abbey so soon."

"Apostle Azeloth, forgive me. I—"

"You've already been forgiven, child." A wrinkled hand touched the girl's shoulder. "Come inside. We would love to hear of your travels with Men."

The Cleric's reflection lingered in the pool for only a little longer. Then the white light began to scatter and tiny ripples skirted across the water's surface from the last embers of the sun. The ripples soon turned into waves and then into bloated swells, breaking under their own weight to make distant wrinkles on the horizon. Glittering beads of sunlight traced a path across the surface of the sea.

From the depths of the waters, the tattered remains of a flag—as black as a crow and just as ominous—floated to the surface. As it was carried along, it unfolded to reveal a skull and crossbones staring blankly at the sun. More wreckage followed. Broken planks of wood and debris drifted near the flag as if they were the lost bones of that skull's forgotten body.

A stone throw's away, Exthame knelt on the wreckage of the once proud pirate ship, now drifting aimlessly in a sea of blood and feathers. Inhaling the saline air, he reached out and laid his katana on what remained of the ship's deck.

"My avian sister," he said. "I am most regretful that I had to end you here, of all places. These dark waters bring back certain memories that I...no longer care to look to."

"I told you these waters were curs'd!" Blackthorn spat. "So what do they do, huh? They sail straight right on through siren terr'tory! Right on through, I tell you!" He closed his one good eye. "Arrr... Nobody listens to ol' Blackthorn anymore."

He was probably right because there was nobody around to hear him talk. They were all on other end of the wrecked ship.

"Come on, Fayrelin," Malkav was saying as he pushed on the unconscious Rogue's chest.

Adam bent down next to him. "She took a lot of water into her lungs. I...can't believe you risked your life to save her."

"I'm not going to let her die. She's the only sane one on this stupid ship."

"Hey!" Captain Jargon prodded Malkav with the nail he had for a second leg. As drunk as he was, though, he lost his balance and fell over. "Hey, you watch what you say about my ship! I have half a mind to throw you overboard." Even on his back, he continued to prod Malkav two or three more times.

"I'd say you do have half a mind because this whole ship is about to be overboard unless you think of a way to repair it."

"Hey! Hey!" The nail came at Malkav again. "I don't do the thinking around here. That's her job." He tried to point at Fayrelin with his leg, but all he managed to do was knock Adam over.

Still, he could settle for that.

"That's why I'm trying to revive her," Malkav said.

"Well, you're not doing a very good job, boy. She's still dead."

"She's not dead!"

"Look, boy..." Jargon sat up and tried to keep his eyes from rolling around in his head. "I've seen dead before and that there...is dead."

Blackthorn finished talking to himself and came over. "Eh? Who's dead?"

"Fayrelin."

"She's not dead!" Malkav screamed. He started smacking Fayrelin's cheeks. "Damn you, please don't be dead."

"I done it with a dead pygmy once," Blackthorn said.

Captain Jargon laughed and fell over.

"Aye, I remember her well... She was the first one who didn't complain."

"Okay..." Malkav said. "Adam, you're a Monk. Don't you know how to revive?"

Adam looked at Malkav and then down at Fayrelin, who was pale and cold. He touched her arm, rolled it over, and then noticed something that caused him to let go. "...Lift up her shirt and turn her over."

"What?"

"Just do it."

"I'll do it!" Blackthorn exclaimed with his tongue stuck out, but Malkav had already done so.

"She's bleeding."

Adam moved in closer. "She must've gotten cut when the ship was collapsing. That's a pretty bad gash, too."

"Can you mend it?"

"I don't know. We'll need to dress the wound."

"Good thing you already have the dress!" Jargon jested, pointing to Adam's womanly attire.

"Yes," Adam said. He tore off a piece of his 'dress' and then grabbed the bottle of rum from Jargon's shaky hands. "And good thing you have the alcohol." He poured the rum onto the piece of cloth and began wiping away the excess blood on Fayrelin's back.

"You took my rum..." Jargon mumbled, in a dazed state. "He took my rum... My rum. That little woman man boy took my rum."

"Shut up," Malkav said. "Is it working?"

Adam tossed the cloth aside. "I think so. I can try to cast my heal spell now. Just...give me some room." Carefully, he placed his bare hands on the wound and closed his eyes.

"We're about to see a miracles, boys!" Blackthorn said.

But Jargon wasn't watching. "He took my rum..."

Adam opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"What's wrong?" Malkav asked.

"I forget the words."

"What!? How can you forget the words to your main spell?"

"I'm usually reviving Men, not healing them!" Adam opened his eyes. "It usually only takes one hit to kill us."

"Then use your revival spell, sissy boy!" Blackthorn said.

Malkav pushed him back. "She's not dead, I said!"

"Don't touch me, boy! I saved your ass a few hours ago."

"You didn't do anything. Exthame killed that siren."

"I weakened her for him!" Blackthorn scowled. "And don't think I didn't see what you did...'cause I did. I saw you and sissy boy try to abandon ship before she was sunk."

"So what if we did?"

"That's mutiny on this here ship! Ain't that right, cap'n?"

Jargon didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the inside of his empty rum bottle as if it were a telescope.

"Wait a second..." the captain said. "I see something!"

"What? Where?"

"Over yonder!" Jargon tried to point, but he was too drunk to keep his finger straight.

"...Aye," Exthame said, suddenly appearing beside them. "I sensed it, too."

"What is it?" Malkav asked.

"From the speed it's coming at us, and judging by the sound vibrations in the water, I'd say it's a flock of mermaids."

"No, no," Blackthorn said. "A 'flock' refers to sirens. A large number of mermaids is called a 'school,' matey."

Jargon lowered the rum bottle. "That's fish, you landlubber. Every sea captain knows that mermaids travel in pods."

"This is ridiculous," Malkav said. He dropped down next to Fayrelin again. "Adam, you have to remember your spell."

"Just give me a second..."

"We don't have that long! Think NOW, man!"

Suddenly, Fayrelin coughed. A mouthful of water, sea salt, and even a small guppy spurted out from her lips. The guppy flopped around on the deck and Fayrelin pried herself up on one elbow.

"It's nice to know I can rely on you guys if I ever get in over my head," she said, coughing and as sarcastic as ever.

"Fay, you're alive!" Malkav cried.

"Of course I am. I can't leave you buffoons alone for a minute or this whole ship will fall apart." She looked around and her eyes began to narrow. "...What happened?"

"...The ship fell apart," Jargon said ashamedly.

"You idiots." Fayrelin sat up and pulled her shirt down to her waist. "Don't forget you still owe me six payments on this miserable scrap pile, 'captain.'"

"You can collect your money after we survive this," Jargon said.

"Survive what?"

The entire ship—or what was left of it—capsized. It had happened so quickly that none of them were prepared and they were thrown headfirst into the hungry jaws of the sea. Thrashing in the waters, they surfaced and managed to huddle together as a pair of dorsal fins circled them. One of the fins was brown and the other...blonde.

"What the hell?" Malkav said aloud.

Blackthorn's eyes went dark. "Mermaids..."

As the surrounding dorsal fins grew closer and the circle smaller, the brown one abruptly stopped and lifted itself out of the water. She shook her head and the knife-edged fin burst into a wave of auburn hair that cascaded down the back of her neck. Satisfied, she smiled at her prey.

"And now we die," Blackthorn said.

The blonde fin dove straight for him. With a single snap, the mermaid caught the pirate between her teeth and carried him under. A trail of blood marked his descent into the deep abyss.

"No!" Malkav screamed. "We were so close."

More dorsal fins—blondes, brunettes, and redheads—advanced towards them. The lone mermaid remained with her head out of the water, still smiling at them.

"What's she doing?" Adam asked.

"She's using her fish tail to guide the others to our position," Exthame said. "It's a hunting technique they use. Mermaids have bad eyesight when in water."

"Perhaps we can use that against them."

"...Unfortunately, as I have, they've managed to adapt to their restricted vision by using their other senses extremely well. We cannot expect to beat a mermaid in their natural element."

Malkav kicked his feet. He didn't even want to think about a mermaid nipping at them.

"Yes, we can!" he said. "You can do some of that crazy sword-action stuff again. You can take on a whole flock or school or whatever of them!"

A smirk appeared under Exthame's dark glasses. "It pains me to say—and the irony hurts me even more—but I'm useless in water. Without solid ground beneath my feet, I can't see any better than a dead Man."

"So that's what we are now?"

"Except for Fayrelin," Jargon said. "She's a Woman."

Fayrelin shot him a nasty glare. "I'm a pygmy, you drunken ape. Learn the difference."

"You have boobs. That's all I see."

"He's right," Malkav said. "But...maybe the mermaids won't kill you because you're a girl." He turned to Exthame, whose deadpan face was always impossible to read. "..Am I right?"

"...I don't think the mermaids care much for race," he answered. "After all, their main diet is fish... And they're half-fish themselves."

"Great..."

The brown-haired mermaid continued to smile at them.

Malkav glared at her and thought back to all the abuse he had suffered at the hands of Women like her during his time in this world. This was ridiculous. Five days ago, when he was normal-sized, he never would have backed down to a girl. No, no matter how whipped he was, he could always speak his mind. But here he was, fearing for his life because some bimbo and her friends wanted him for dinner.

How could he stand by and let this happen?

"Hey, bitch!" he called out. "Yeah, you. What's the matter? You need back-up to take us all on? Gotta call in the marines, do you? Are you that afraid of losing to a handful of Men and one Woman?"

The mermaid cocked her head to the side.

"What's wrong? Catfish got your tongue?"

"I should mention," Exthame said, "that most mermaids, like most sirens, don't speak our language."

"...Oh."

The mermaid continued to smile—now, wider than ever.

"...Actually, I did hear and understand you," she said, and her voice was heavenly. "But I must say, your kind has always amazed me. It's hard to believe there exists an entire race of people who are intelligent enough to speak our language and still dumb enough to sail into our open waters." She glanced at the driftwood around her. "Especially in such a pathetic excuse for a ship."

"Hey!" Jargon snapped. "You can insult me and my crew, but nobody insults my ship!"

"Your ship will now be our toothpicks."

"Over my dead body, fishwoman!"

"...Please. That's such an ignorant thing to say."

"Why do you want to eat us?" Adam asked. "You have an entire ocean of food available to you. We can't possibly fill you up."

"This is true."

The dorsal fins were almost upon them.

"So...you could eat bigger prey," Adam continued.

The mermaid finally stopped smiling. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"He's saying we don't want to be eaten!" Malkav cried out.

"Oh."

With a shrug of her bare shoulders, the mermaid slapped her tail against the water's surface.

The fins suddenly stopped and, one by one, the mermaids poked their heads out of the water and stared at the crew with water dripping from their hair. Their faces were beautiful, but the pirates weren't so easily fooled.

"You people have a real roundabout way of saying things," the brown-haired mermaid said. "Why didn't you just say you'd rather not be eaten in the first place?"

Adam blinked. That's about all any of them could do. "We...didn't expect you to listen?"

"We're not monsters. We're not going to eat a living thing that can speak for itself."

"...What about Blackthorn? We saw you eat him."

"Oh, he's fine." The mermaid pointed to the blonde who had captured Blackthorn.

The blonde smiled and displayed the only slightly chewed-up Blackthorn in her mouth.

Everybody groaned and looked away. Adam puked.

"He'll survive," the brown-haired mermaid said. "That is, unless you want us to eat him."

"No!" they all yelled.

The blonde frowned and spat the pirate out. "Oh, fish sticks..."

"I don't get it..." Malkav said. "Why would anybody ask to be eaten?"

The brown-haired mermaid shrugged. "Many aren't able to speak, like fish and turtles, so the only way we have of knowing if they want to stay alive is if they can swim faster than us."

"...But that's stupid."

"We don't think so. If you really want something, you have the power to make it happen." The devious smile returned to her face. "We've eaten many, many Men in our days and every one of them wanted us to."

"They said that, huh?"

"Either they did, or their actions did. You see..." She swam closer. "We like to grant wishes. And when we're done with you, you'll beg us to be eaten."

The other mermaids lowered their heads and their hair became dorsal fins again.

"Um..." Malkav said. "This suddenly took a turn for the worst..."

"What are you going to do with us?" Adam asked.

"We're taking you home," she answered. "With us, to the city of Atlantis. You'll be most unhappy there, I assure you."

Malkav thought about objecting, but he was the first one to go under. Adam was next, followed by Fayrelin, and then an unconscious Blackthorn.

"We gotta do something!" Jargon said, trying to backpedal away from the approaching fins of hair.

Exthame remained still. "The best thing to do now is go with them. They may mean us harm, or not, but we can persevere either way. If we try to resist, we will be killed. Surely you can understand this." He was the next to disappear into the depths of the sea. He actually seemed to welcome it.

Jargon was alone at the surface. He stood against a wave of oncoming fins and tried to fight them back with an imaginary sword.

"B-back—back, you filthy beasts!" he cried to the heavens. "I will not suffer this kind of humiliation! As captain of this vessel, I will go down with my ship!"

And so the mermaids took the pieces of the ship—and Jargon—down with them. Down they went, deeper and deeper into the black chasm below, waving farewell to the sun with their flapping tails. Captain Jargon watched them with horror. Their bodies, like dark shadows, swept over him. He felt his head getting light. Cold water embraced his skin.

Would this be his watery grave?

The darkness... The depths... He started to fade into a deep slumber, cursing a sea of black that would claim them all, when a glowing light flooded the seafloor. It was faint...soft...like something from a dream...

No, that couldn't be anything from a dream. That was Atlantis. Damn it all...

Those lights...

"An ancient civilization..."

"That's a lot of torches."

"I can't tell if it's night or day."

"Dammit, you guys!" Cain screamed. "Put out that light!"

Vic, standing on Eric's shoulders, lost his balance and tumbled to the floor of the bag.

"Well, that was unnecessary," he said.

"I was trying to sleep," Cain said. "I figure as long as we're stuck in this stupid bag, we might as well make the best of things."

"We're not stuck in here," Eric said. "Kamilla put us in here for our own safety."

"Ha! 'Our safety,' he says. Naïve little Elf."

"What? Kamilla is awesome. And you know what they say? Third's time a charm!"

Cain had a glazed look in his eyes. "If you're referring to the number of times we've gotten kidnapped by some crazy chick who wants to eat us, I'm pretty sure we've been down this road more than a couple of times."

"No..." Vic said. "This one's different. I can feel it."

"You just think she's hot," Cain grunted.

"No. But I trust her."

"The last time we trusted somebody, we ended up in a vat of chili."

"That was different."

Cain stood up. "How was that different? Huh? Tell me! Tell me how Joan was different than Lynne or Mel or Brenda or any of the other self-righteous whores we've meet in the past twenty-four hours. Remember Aisha? Remember what she did to us?"

"I remember," Vic said.

"Then why do you keep trusting these bitches?"

"As a Knight, I pride myself on seeing more than a woman's outer appearance."

"And as Lunch for a Day, I've had enough of seeing a woman's inner appearance. I'll take the outside any day."

"You have a really grim outlook on this world," Vic said. "Not every girl we encounter wants to eat us."

"Yeah, pardon my ass for forgetting the wonderful group of women who would be happy just stamping us into the earth like bugs."

"Your ass is pardoned!" Eric said, slapping Cain on the caboose.

The bag became very, very silent for a moment.

"...Touch me there again and I'll kill you, Elf," Cain said.

"Sorry."

"...Anyway..." Vic said, but he didn't really know where he was going with it.

But Cain did.

"Let's bust out of here," he said. "A few snips, a short drop to the ground, and we can be miles away before she even knows we're gone."

"Actually, I can already see a few holes in your theory," Eric said. "Aside from the one you want to make in the bag, of course." He winked at Cain, who threw a punch at him and missed. "First of all, Vic's sword is the only weapon we possess capable of severing through this coarse fabric, and, judging by the disapproving glower in his face, I would duly surmise that Vic is not in agreement of your grand 'escape' plan. Secondly—and I think you'll better understand this—the 'short drop' to the ground would do more than a few of our bones. Also, with the sudden loss of weight in the bag, Kamilla is sure to suspect something is amiss. I should also point out that covering a distance in terms of miles at our diminutive size before she discovers a gaping hole at the bottom of the bag would not only be—"

"It has suddenly occurred to me that my axe would fit nicely into that big mouth of yours."

Eric shut up.

"He's right, though," Vic said. "Even if I agreed to such a plan—and we carried it out flawlessly—we would have to rely too much on outside forces to get far, let alone survive the night in this jungle."

"Actually, we exited the jungle about an hour ago," Eric said. "My keen Elven senses have detected a harder, more...stone-like path that we are currently treading upon."

"So maybe we're in the mountains."

"That would seem most unlikely. There are mountains in Kaligar, to be sure, but they are further to the north and nearly impossible to navigate through on foot. In fact, only the Monks of the Blue Rose, who have built their monastery on the mountains' tallest peak, can claim to have walked the entire length of a mountainside. That is, of course, the final test into the Sisterhood."

Cain glared at him. "Dude, can't you wait for the sequel?"

"Just telling it like it is."

"Well, stop it. Just tell us where you think we're being taken."

"Hmm. Based on my semi-phenomenal, nearly cosmic powers with the natural world, I would say we're on our way to meet Princess Erika."

"Which is exactly what Kamilla mentioned before she grabbed us," Vic pointed out.

"Yeah."

"Well, I don't care," Cain said, reaching for his axe. "You guys might be fooled by their pretty smiles and cute tricks, but I know the truth. These girls are only interested in one thing, my friends, and it ain't our well-being."

Eric seized the stubborn Dwarf by the wrist. "If you don't trust them, then trust us. We've stuck together through all of this and both Vic and I sense something good in Kamilla."

"Humph!"

"There are decent Women out there," Vic said. "Remember Kendira?"

"Don't start with that again."

"If you ask me, Cain, we have a better chance of surviving in this world if we know who to trust."

"Yeah, and the people we need to trust have big bushes of hair under their arms."

Eric cringed. "You don't suppose Erika looks like that, do you?"

"Well, we are in the jungle..." Vic said. "But the point is: we can't survive on our own. Not here, anyway. We're in unfamiliar territory and have no way to join back up with the main group. If we ever hope to see our friends again, we're going to need to establish some solid connections with the Women of this land."

"And you think this 'princess' will help us?" Cain asked.

"I think we can trust her."

Cain's eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to study Vic's face for even a shred of doubt. But there was nothing. Slowly, the Dwarf turned his sight towards Eric, but even he was nodding in silent agreement.

"...Fine." Cain said after a minute, releasing his grip on the axe. "We'll trust the princess to make all our dreams come true."

"Thank you."

Cain plopped back down in an angry huff, but he didn't have to wait long for their arrival. Before he could get comfortable, glittering orange embers of light filled the bag and our three heroes found themselves tumbling onto a surface of marble. They quickly scrambled to their feet and found themselves surrounded by bowls of exotic fruits and juices. It was a dizzying array of colors at first—especially after having spent such a long time in the dark confinements of that bag, which was now cast so casually over Kamilla's shoulder.

At the other end of the table, opposite of Kamilla, was a buxom girl of about the same age, draped in a long silken robe of white and gold trimming that dangled suggestively low around the neckline. In addition, she wore leather sandals and a headband that went ear to ear like a coiled snake. Her hair was pulled back and would have blended into the moonlit sky if not for the many torches and jars of fireflies that surrounded the elevated platform she was lying upon.

"Holy shit," Cain said, squeezing Eric's neck. "Look at the size of those freakin' melons!"

But Eric was looking up at her too.

"You know," the Elf said, "for somebody who spends all his time railing against Women, you're always the first to point out when they have a nice set of—"

"Dude, I'm talking about the fruit!"

"What?"

Cain began to stroke the giant melons that stood before them. "Oh, sweet, sweet, honeydew..."

"It has been a while since we've had a good meal," Vic said, running his finger along the smooth, curved skin of the melon. "Elf—hey, Elf! Come check this out. Real food."

With a shrug, Eric decided to join his friends in prodding the fruit with his index finger. "Wow. It's fuzzy."

"I know. Isn't it awesome?"

The dark-haired girl watched them with particular fascination. "Kamilla... Your guests are touching my food in very strange ways."

"Please forgive them, Princess Erika," Kamilla said, bowing her head. "They are foreigners to this land."

Erika held up her palm. "I can always forgive Men, Kamilla. They don't know any better. But you do."

"Yes, of course. I should've trained them before I brought them to you."

"Yes. You should have."

"It won't happen again."

Erika's hand remained suspended in the air for a moment. Then she slowly brought her fingers nearer to her lips, studying the Men on the table.

"They...are quite funny things, aren't they?" she asked, but to no one in particular.

It was then that Vic, Eric, and Cain noticed the two rather large, chestnut-colored eyes staring them down. Slowly, they released their fingers from the fruit and looked up at her like pleading dogs who had just made a mess on the carpet.

Erika waved her hand at them. "Go on. Eat."

But they remained still.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked.

"Quite hungry..." Eric said, fidgeting. "We've been traveling for a long time and—"

"If you want to talk, then talk. But if you want to eat, then eat."

They were a bit cautious at first, but Erika made no attempt to stop them as our heroes drew their weapons and began to carve into the melon. She simply watched them devour the fruit, one finger on the corner of her lips, and smiled in playful amusement.

"And you guys wanted to make a break for it," Cain said, with juice dribbling off his beard. "I told you we'd be okay. I told you, didn't I?" He wiped a chubby arm across his face and turned to Erika. "I told them, Princess. They wanted to escape and I says to them—I says, 'That Erika, she sounds like an okay lass to me. She knows how to take care of a Man.'"

Erika nodded.

"It's hard always being the brains of the group, you know, but that's like a secondary trait of mine. First and foremost, I'm the group muscle." He rolled up his sleeve flexed his arm. "Look at 'er, lass. You won't find this kind of meat on an Elf!"

Eric elbowed him. "Dude, do you want her to eat us?"

"Wait. What?"

It was then that Cain noticed Erika was doing laps with her tongue around the outside of her lips.

"Oh... Shit."

Vic dropped his melon slice. "Not again..."

The others did the same.

"What's wrong?" Erika asked. "You stopped eating."

"That's because we're not going to fatten ourselves up just so you can eat us!" Cain declared.

"Yeah!" Eric said. "Cain's fat enough as it is!"

"Eat you...?" Erika echoed. "Do I look like a monster?"

"You look like you've had your fair share of Men," Cain said, pointing to Erika's belly with the tip of his sword. "You're not getting us in there alive."

The playfulness was swept from Erika's face. "...Did you just call me fat?"

"I'll take care of this!" Kamilla said, raising her katana over the table.

Eric and Vic held each other and screamed. Cain wet his pants.

"What are you doing, Kamilla!?"

"...Oh." Kamilla stopped. "Sorry. I got caught up in the moment."

Erika laid a hand on her chest and sighed deeply. "I was hoping you Men would be different... But I see that is not the case."

"It's not your fault, Princess Erika," Kamilla said.

"Shut up, Kamilla. Your continued presence here is questionable."

"Shall I go then?"

"Yes. Go." Erika laid back her head. "And put these...creatures with the rest of the slaves. Maybe they'll learn some respect after a few years of hard labor."

Cain's eyes widened. "Slaves...?" He wet his pants one more time before the dark maw of Kamilla's bag came over his head, gobbling up him, Vic, and Eric in a single lunge. They were carried away in the blackness, their voices muffled and unnoticed.

They wouldn't be heard. This was their fate.

But it was quiet soon... Hauntingly quiet. The poor girl, she couldn't even hear her own mad whispers in this place. They only trickled from her lips like blood.

In the darkness, she felt a presence that drew her forth. She held the bars of her prison and pressed her face against the rims of metal. How frightening it must have looked to see that torchlight floating towards her like a ghost. How she screamed—like she had for hours—and cursed it to go away.

But she wouldn't be heard.

The warden unlocked the door, setting a tray on the table next to the cell, and stuffed the torch into an open crack in the wall.

"You really should be quiet," she said. "Many people have died in this place. Their spirits like to rest in peace."

"My mother..." Olivia whispered, squeezing the bars that confined her to this dark cell.

The warden cut her off. "...Wants nothing to do with you." Without waiting for a reaction, she spit in the Countess' face. "Just like the rest of us. We'll all be better off without your fanatical, Man-loving ideals."

"Please... I...must speak with her..."

"Hey, didn't you hear me?" The warden raised her boot and knocked Olivia to the floor. "She's not coming. Nobody's coming for you. From now on, I'll be your only friend. And you know what?" She leaned down, squeezing her burly arms through the bars, and pulled the Countess up by the rags of her frayed dress. "I've never liked you. So I'm sure we'll get along just fine." She sneered, but Olivia was looking right past her. Her eyes were on the metal beams that were beginning to close in on her.

"No!" she screamed, writhing in the warden's grasp. "No, no! I can't be here. I don't belong here. You can't keep me in this box! This isn't my comfort. This isn't my place."

The warden was so surprised that she immediately let go of the Countess. "What the hell is the matter with you, you crazy bat?"

Olivia's fingertips found their way to her lips after some difficulty and she began chewing her nails down to the nubs. "I'm not dead, I'm not dead, I'm not dead... No, no... Not...dead..." She giggled at the sound of her own voice, but it was stifled by the movement of her hand in her mouth.

"No," the warden grunted. "Not yet, anyway." But it was clear Olivia wasn't listening. Not consciously, at least.

"Blue skies, purple flowers..." Olivia's nails began to bleed. "Blue skies, purple flowers... Soft, soft...soft, soft now..."

One of the warden's eyes began to twitch.

Slowly, Olivia's voice faded into the back of her head and she began to sing between the motions of her heavy breaths.

"...You're insane," the warden said after a moment of awkward silence. "Solitary confinement isn't enough for you. You should be put asleep like the dog you are."

"Soft... Soft... Soft..."

"I can see we're going to have some wonderful conversations as you rot here."

Olivia put a red, trembling finger to the outside of her lips and began making hushing noises.

Scowling, the warden grabbed the tray of food and thrust it through a small opening at the base of the cell. "Eat up, dog. After you get a taste of our cuisine, you might just prefer to eat your own leg." Then she laughed and kicked the tray towards Olivia, spilling most of it in the process.

Olivia left the tray alone. She had pushed herself to the back wall of the cage and huddled there in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest. It was the only way she could keep from falling over.

"...I've taken the liberty of putting bricks over your window," the warden said, trying one last time to exasperate the Countess. "Your mother told me you shouldn't be allowed so close to an open window. We wouldn't want you to fall out and kill yourself against the jagged rocks below, you know."

There was no warning for what was to come. Olivia sprang for the warden—on all fours, in fact—and threw herself against the bars of the cage. They rattled but held fast as she reached out and clawed the warden's face with her serrated fingernails.

"Bitch!" the warden yelled. She stumbled back and a long gash appeared under her left eye, running the length of her nose, and began to pool with blood. "Bitch, you cut me!"

Olivia began gnawing at the bars that held her.

Once again, the warden raised her boot. This time, though, she didn't pull back as she hurled her iron sole straight into the Countess' mouth.

Olivia sank with only a muffled cry.

"You better hope this wound heals," the warden said, touching the stream of blood on her cheek. "I haven't serviced your mother for twenty long years, scuffling with bandits and ruthless murderers, to have my beautiful face finally scarred by the likes of you."

But Olivia only smiled up at her, panting, as crimson droplets trickled from the spaces between her teeth.

The warden glowered—although it sent a sharp pain through her face—and turned away. "...I suggest you drink your tea. That's all you're going to get tonight." Then she seized her torch, kicked open the door, and started to walk through it. She got halfway before she stopped, her back to Olivia, and stood like a statue in the flickering shadows. "Remember something, Countess. By morning, this whole kingdom will believe that you are dead. Only your mother and I will know the truth. We've even taken the liberty to make sure nobody finds you down here. Most of my guards don't know this part of the dungeon exists." She looked over her shoulder and her face was immersed in blood. "This torch is the only light you're likely to see for a very long time. I hold your very existence in the palm of my hand and I won't hesitate for a moment to 'forget' about you down here, if you cross me again."

She closed the door and darkness filled the room. With no color left, Olivia let her eyelids fall and she began to whisper to herself, to the ghosts in the shadows.

A sudden chill crept across her shoulder, but she knew it wasn't the wind.

They wouldn't let the wind in...

"...You're cold."

"I'm sorry, Master... I was trying not to show it."

Master Luna smiled and wrapped an arm around her apprentice's neck. "You're not used to it. The Abbey doesn't get this cold at night."

But Kendira only shuddered under Luna's touch. At least the utter darkness of this place could hide the fear in her eyes.

"When we return home, I'd like you to start training in fire magic. If you become too specialized with ice, your blood will freeze over in places like this."

"Y-yes...Master."

Luna nodded and closed her eyes. "...Though I sense more than the cold in your shivers."

"I was trying not to show those either," Kendira said softly.

"It would be wrong to deny your fears, my child. Until you do, how can you expect to overcome them?"

"I just want to be strong, like you..."

"You will be," Luna assured her. "When the time is right, this whole world will see your strength carry us to a time of prosperity, and we'll never have to consort with demons again."

As if on cue, Hadie came creeping out of the Black Widow's Walk, dragging her long cape behind her.

"Careful, Luna..." she hissed. "You never know who will overhear you in a place like this."

"Crawl back into the swamp that spawned you, worm," Luna said. "We're through here."

"What? No kissss good-bye?" Hadie wriggled her snake-like tongue at Kendira.

Luna shielded her. "I won't have you frightening her anymore."

"I'm not scared," Kendira said.

Suddenly, Hadie's skull appeared on her shoulder, roaring in laughter. "You will be, child!"

Kendira tried to swat it away, but the skull disintegrated into a nest of spiders that quickly scurried up Kendira's sleeve. She screamed and fell over.

"Enough of your tricks!" Luna said.

The spiders exited through the neckline of Kendira's robe and climbed up Hadie's cadaver, where they reformed her hideous skull.

"Look at her face, Luna!" she cackled. "See how terrified she is? She can't hide it. Not like you can, Luna, my dear..."

"You've done nothing but torment her all night," Luna said. "If you won't tell her the reason we've brought her here, then I will."

Hadie grinned. "You would tell her about the assassination of the Queen?"

"...What?" Kendira picked herself off the ground. "What do you mean?"

"Her voice squeaked! I love it. So afraid... So real..."

"You...you can't be serious." Kendira turned to Luna. "No... No, Master. Gaining favor with the Apostles is one thing, but killing the Royal Queen... You... No! No, tell me she's lying!"

Her master was silent.

"Tell me now!" Kendira cried. "Master, I demand to know the truth. What are you planning to do here!?"

"It's...very complicated," Luna said, choosing her words carefully. "In order to begin the process of purging this land of Penee, we need to remove the Royal Queen from the throne."

"But why!?"

"The princess...Isabella...is more suitable for our purposes."

"You mean she's more likely to help you destroy Penee."

"It's not that simple, Kendira."

"Oh, I'm sure it's too complex for a simple child like me to comprehend," Kendira said. For the first time, she turned away from her master. "I don't want to hear anymore. I'm warning the royal family about what you plan to do." Her black cape covered her shadow. "...You'll have to kill me if you want to stop me this time."

"...Don't you dare," Luna said. But her words were directed at Hadie this time. "If you lay a hand on her, demon—I swear, I'll end you right here. And this time, nobody will bring you back to life."

Hadie cackled, louder and louder, until even the naked trees seemed to be mocking them.

"Foolish children!" she bellowed. The howling wind seemed to be pivoting around her position. "Did you think I would underestimate human empathy? Did you think I would let your mortal concerns interfere with my plans?"

Luna braced herself against the raging storm. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't ask you simple beings to come here to talk about killing the Queen. We made a pact. Did you think I would divulge so much information to you without getting something in return?"

The wind picked up speed. A sudden gust from behind threw Kendira mercilessly into the air. Only Luna's quick reflexes were able to save her in time, but, with nothing left to grab onto, the two of them crashed into the ground at Hadie's bony feet.

"Don't you see!?" Hadie screamed, her eye sockets turning into rings of fire. "The Queen is already dead!"

Luna clawed at the ground. "No! We had a deal, worm. She wasn't supposed to die yet."

"Oh, you had it so meticulously planned out, didn't you, my pet?" Hadie guffawed. "I guess nobody told you that the dead don't have time to wait! Our plans will happen here, on this day! All we hoped for will come to fruition, Luna, and you two will join me in the victories and the spoils."

"I will never join you!" Kendira screamed, throwing her voice against the wind.

Hadie's skull erupted in flames so high that they pierced the darkening clouds. "It's too late for your irresolution, child! Your blood is signed on our pact. You belong to our cause now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Are you dense!?" Hadie seized Kendira by the front of her robe and forced her to look into her dead, glowing eyes. "YOU KILLED THE QUEEN! THE BLOOD IS ON YOU, KENDIRA!" And then she threw back her head, which nearly came dislodged from her neck bone, and ingested all the wind and fire that had engulfed her.

"...W-what...?"

It was suddenly very quiet. Hadie leaned into Kendira's ear, stroking it with the forked tip of her long, snaky tongue.

"Tell me, child..." she hissed. "Did you hear your dinner scream on the way down? Because I did."

A ghostly paleness washed over Kendira's face.

"She stopped screaming a few minutes ago. It's too bad you can't hear as well as I can... Her cries were full of beautiful terror."

Kendira clutched her stomach. The wind had ceased and yet everything was spinning to her.

Master Luna tried to hold her, but Kendira broke away and crawled on hands and knees towards the nearest tree.

"I guess she has a weak stomach, too," Hadie cackled as the sound of Kendira's vomiting echoed through the night air.

"...I ought to grind your bones to dust," Luna said.

"But you won't. You know what I did was necessary." Hadie smirked. "She was going to betray you, Luna. She was going to ruin everything."

"She was only doing what she felt was right at the time."

Kendira fell against the tree, still retching.

"...Well, she won't make that mistake again," Hadie said. "Just look at the mess you've gotten her into."

Kendira's fingernails slid all the way down the trunk of the tree, peeling off a strand of bark as long as her arm. Her knees were the first part of her to touch the swampy ground, then her palms, and finally the tips of her hair as she lowered her head and tried to block all the horrible thoughts from entering her mind. What had she done?

"She's lying..." Kendira told herself, clawing at the clumps of mud and grass under her skin. "The Queen is alive. She's alive... She's safe and protected from all this madness."

And yet, despite her many efforts to look away, she couldn't help but notice a small, almost miniscule, glitter out of the corner of her eye. Even in the muddled darkness, she saw it, as clear as the sun on a cloudless day and as horrifying as a stain on an otherwise white dress. And it was lying right there, in the jumbled slosh at her feet, in the remnants of her last meal.

"But that's impossible..." The shimmering light reflected in her eyes like shards of a broken mirror. "How could... ..."

Kendira's lips went silent. She reached out, felt a rush of air escape her lungs like a freed spirit, and she sank to the cold earth without a sound. Within seconds, she had slipped into the folds of darkness that had made their way around her. Like a dying candle, the glitter of truth turned to a flickering blur and then to black.

There could be no mistaking the Royal Queen's crown.