Trial of Fire [Andráska]

[Zvezdana Venora]

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48th of Ashan, Arc 717

Zvezdana slammed the door behind her, her white Novitiate robes twirling around her ankles as she spun around to go racing into the streets of Rharne. She had received the letter early on. It was abrupt and cryptic, but it told her one very important: Andráska was coming to Rharne. She had to be at the docks when he arrived. She had to see him. Apparently he had things to tell her and she felt like she had things to tell him. Alzorn was growing fast, and she desperately wanted to come home. She wanted to raise him on the flowery landscapes of Venora. She wanted him to have the best education and to be raised by one of the best men she knew. Vivian and Seira were her family as well, and they deserved to be back in Rynmere. Whatever she had to do to redeem herself, she would make moves to do so. For Alzorn. For Vivian and Seira.

For Andráska.

She ducked and dodged people as she ran through the streets. Rharne was not as busy as it could be this early in the morning. Zvezdana was not completely sure when András would be arriving, so she planned to wait all day at the docks until he arrived. A cart pulled out in front of her, causing Zvez to skid to a stop. She nearly slammed into the side of the wooden wagon.

“Look where you are going bitch. I could have run you over!”

“I’m sorry,” Zvez murmured, biting her tongue. Oh how she wanted to let him have it. It wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t been paying attention when entering the road. Didn’t pedestrians have the right away? The cart moved out of her way. She took a few steps forward, her eyes fixated on the wagon. Not paying attention to wear she was going, she stepped directly in the path of a person empty a large bucket of water onto the porch of his shop. Needed to keep the entrance clean. The water doused the front half of her robes.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, the shock of the cool water causing her skin to tighten and tingle. Damn that was cold. The person that had splashed her simply snorted and continued about her business. Clearly this was the victim’s fault, not hers.

Since when did you roll over, belly up?

The world disappeared in that moment. No one mattered. That voice. She knew that voice. When she heard that voice, that low growl in the back of her head, she knew bad things were going to happen. Not today. Please…

“Hey!” The burly voice of the man that had thrown water at her interrupted her thoughts. He was lightly smacking her ankles with a worn broom. “Get off my stoop. I need to get ready for business.”

“Uh, yes. Sorry.”

Pathetic. Where did that woman that sought revenge go? When did your blood stop boiling? These pathetic insects you call people are walking all over you. You, the vessel to the Sessfiend…

“Get out of my head,” Zvezdana hissed as quietly as she could. No one around her seemed to care that she was murmuring to herself. She gripped the letter tighter than she had before, her knuckles going white.

Can't do that. Besides, I want to come out and play a little bit.

"Look out!"

A man called out to Zvezdana just as a portly woman collided with her, large baskets of fresh bread having blocked her vision. Zvezdana fell backwards, her slight form unable to prevent the woman from walking right into her. She plopped into a puddle, Andráska's letter getting completely soaked. Bread pattered to the cobblestone, the woman turning bright red with anger. She started to yell, but Zvez was far from aware of her words. Her focus was on her brother's letter. She uncurled the paper, unwilling to prepare herself for what she knew was happening to the letter. The ink was running down the page, his vague words washing away.

"You listening to me insolent girl?!"

"You self centered..."

"What did you say?"

"Let's play."

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[Andráska Venora]

48th of Ashan, 717

The ship would be docking soon, which gave Andráska time to study. Before him was a blank notebook, its cover pushed down held in place by a pen and another tome – Learning Draketh. He flipped through the first few pages, blinking at the swirl of a strange new alphabet. As a knight he should have practiced the language more, as a Ouroboros, it was essential. He had to get this right, and so one by one, he began to copy the alphabet of the foreign language, trying his best to keep a steady hand and follow proper stroke order. In truth, the book he was reading was very thorough, and he had bought it from one of the king's personal scribes.

He began to read some of the introduction, leaning back in his chair as he did so, “Draketh is an essential language for members of the military – as it's difficulty makes it challenging for other to interpret and learn it. The challenge is great, but the rewards are equally as immense.”

The noble frowned, shaking his head. Wasn't it better to learn a language that wasn't dying and impossible to learn? He was about to shut the book when a particular sentence caught his eyes. “Draketh – the language of dragons...”

He blinked, arching a brow. Now that was interesting. Who didn't want to talk to dragons? Having dreams to one day ride one, Andras scooted forward in his chair and worked on making the sounds of the language, trying to follow the pronunciation guide, and feeling frustrated in the process. Each time his mouth formed a syllable, his tongue felt tired and fat – a useless, clumsy muscle. Despite his frustrations, he continued, feeling the rhythm of the language and imitating it best he could. The boat swayed and jerked and he could hear footsteps running across the deck and his head cocked to listen. A few men shouted orders and he closed his book, rising to his feet, and catching sight of himself in a mirror hanging on the cabin wall. He paused, jerking back and almost not recognizing himself. His hair was getting longer now – due for a haircut, and his face had more scruff than the last time he had been in Rharne. He rolled his arms, having grown familiar to the new weight of his Ouroboros armor, its extravagance still surprised him. It was fitted and made as a direct fit for him and no one else. It fit like a glove, and in the shiny plate, he saw a splash of color that gave the metal armor its shine. He had disliked the idea of wearing it constantly, particularly on a ship, but he thought it best to approach his sister openly.

He cast his green eyes to the ground, suddenly feeling guilty. Would she hate him now that he had sided with the king? By no means did he want to cause her harm, nor did he want to hid his new profession like a dirty secret. He would be open and honest with her, as he always had, and vow to use his new status to find a way... He wanted her to come home with him. She deserved to be in Venora, and as great as Rharne could be – it wasn't where she belonged.

Running a hand over his face, Andráska gave a nervous exhale and snatched up the silver cape resting on the back of his chair and began to hook it to his back, before shaking his head and casting it aside. It's Ouroboros sigil would be an overkill and he needed to think of the consequences. Hefting up the shield Alistair had given him, he admired its untouched Venora rose symbol and hoped it would show his loyalty to his house. He feared his sister's reaction, and a pit of sick nerves clawed at the inside of his stomach. He would learn soon enough.
Anchors were being tossed and the deck was alive with activity. Andráska double checked that he had the proper documentation, and for reassurance, was decked out with perhaps more weapons than were necessary. Without a bag large enough, he had little other choice, having been stressed by the commander to take an armory before he left, least the rebel queen try to use tricks to slice his throat. The whole interaction had sent him silently seething, but he said nothing – following the orders and now that it was just him...

He debated bringing his sword or his crossbow, and mulled it over in his mind. It was so unlikely that he would need to bring anything, after all, it was his sister. Sure, Zvezdana could be intimidating, but she wasn't a monster.

Men were unloading barrels and boxes from the ship as he debated and he looked up – the sound of shrill screaming like a whistle to the ex-knight. He leaned to the side, squinting as he tried to see what was happening at the docks. Frost covered much of the décor, and it was a dim day... so when he saw a flash of hot heat and tendrils of smoke rising to the sky, his stomach clenched, and his fingers scrambled to attach the sword to his hip. His eyes were flying to the bodies growing frantic and watched as people begin to scatter like ants.

Wait... was his sister down there? More terrible screams and those that had been unloading now dropped their stock and shoved themselves past Andráska, who was trying to get on land. He growled in frustration, grabbed his bolts and crossbow and started jogging onto dry land.

His body jerked, a small wave of nausea rolling over him but he pushed onward, his boots slapping against the slick cobblestone, “Zvezdana!” he screamed, running toward every raven haired woman that rushed past him, but his hands came up empty. “Zvezdana! Blue! Where are you?!”

He kept running towards the commotion, hearing a great growl and screams of agony. The smoke was getting thicker, and he skidded to a stop when a terrible beast crept around the corner. A pungent smell of brimstone rolled from the creature, and it was enormous. Andráska had never seen anything like it and fear gripped his throat. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide in shock. People couldn't find lightning knights fast enough and blood already stained the ground and buildings were going up in flames.

Fire rolled from two heads, its muscles flexing as it moved. The nobleman stepped back ready to run himself, but he remembered somewhere, his sister waited. Both her and Alzorn were in danger...The entire city was. Steeling his resolve, he popped some of the bolts between his teeth and lifted the crossbow. Shifting his stance, Andráska glared down the sight and held his breath.

He pulled the trigger.

[Zvezdana Venora]

The transformation had been explosive, like the pent up rage that Zvezdana had felt all this time. The beast had come forth in a flurry of smoke, fire, and bloody muscle. To the perception of those around nearest her, Zvezdana would appear to be instantaneously murdered as the creature erupted from her chest. The beast had taken over, hot saliva dripping onto the ground as it focused on the bread woman that had caused the capsule of rage within its vessel to crack and break. Among the smell of smoke and blood, a hint of urine was picked up by its unskinned nares. The bread woman was shaking, the urine pooling at her shoes. The beast leaned in, snorting as its flaming tongue dropped out of its mouth. Like a snake, the organ curled towards the woman's cheek. When it made contact, her screams alerted everyone in the buildings that were unaware of the beast. With her screams, those that already knew the beast was there, went running.

It silenced her quickly, one head closing it's maw around the middle of her head and mouth. With a sickening snap the top of her head seemed to pop while it took the middle section. Smoke billowed as the bite was inhaled into the furnace at the back of its mouth. The other head busied itself with an arm. Hunger in its raw form. The beast had been waiting for such a long time. With diminished rage came less visits. There was not enough anger within the vessel to draw it out more than once a season. Once the plump woman had been devoured, the beast felt invigorated enough to start playing.

With a full belly, the beast horked up a large fireball at the shop that had splashed the vessel. Inside, the shopkeep was being roasted alive. Smoke billowed up from the burning wood and from its back as its body burned through the bread woman. Other people spilled into the streets from surrounding buildings, heading towards the higher quarters. The Dust Quarter was expected to become a blood bath, if not a pile of ash if the beast had anything to say about it. Yet, the beast had other plans. It had to get home to the Glass Quarter. Rharne could be its playground another time. There was an enticing meal it desired greatly higher above them.

The vessel had given birth to a succulent snack, fat and plump with mother's milk. All it had to do was remember how to get home so that it could deal with the vessel's guard and enjoy the bite sized morsel. The beast turned around, a boy running ahead of him. Of course, it was only appropriate to enjoy a few hors d'oeuvres along the way. The skinny citizens of Rharne would not compare to the delicacy of a prized baby. The beast was about to bound forward when words entered the cartilage of its ears.

“Zvezdana!”

The cartilage pivoted, facing backwards to catch the yells better. What was this? Both heads reared up and arched backward to the docks, the direction the yells were coming from. It wasn't far off, but the words seemed to ring out to the beast amongst all the screams around it. It moved slowly towards the docks, towards the threatening ocean.

“Zvezdana! Blue! Where are you?!”

András...

Shut up.

The beast moved slowly, one head up to listen while the other head push its nose into the ground. There was no trail to follow. Whomever was spouting these words must have just arrived in Rharne. It slipped in between the houses separating the side road it was on and the main road through the Dust Quarter. It's shoulders scraped the stone, leaving giant smears of blood in its wake. Normally when the beast was awake, the vessel was sleeping inside. This was a first, for her to be somewhat aware. She must stay quiet if it were to have any grasp on the real world. Focused, the beast finished sliding through the alley.

Whatever had woken the woman inside of it had gone quiet. It lifted its head up high, standing there on the vacant street. The smoke floated up and out of the alley, starting to lose volume. If it did not constantly eat, the smoke began to dwindle. Hunger would soon set in again and it would be inclined to focus on its mission for baby snacks.

This little side quest was just about to be called when the bolt landed firmly in the side of its neck. The right head snapped upwards with a pained howl, the corresponding front leg reaching up to scratch and claw at the irritating twig that had been buried in its neck. The claws snapped the bolt, leaving the head deep within its neck. Blood flowed around the wound as the beast turned to see who had chosen to defy it.

It was a young man, scruffy with long hair. He had a crossbow, so clearly he was the aggressor in their little feud. It blinked slowly, taking in the site. He was tall and handsome. He looked vaguely familiar to the beast. Did this man matter to the vessel? It took a step towards the man. He smelled of men, sweat, and salt. Deep beneath that, the smell of juniper and tree sap. It stirred the woman within its form. Yes, the man met something to her. He was dressed in steel plate armor, a dragon eating its own tail emblazoned on the front. His shield was a very stylish rose.

Andráska.

Are you ready to see him die? Will that make you hate the world?

The beast licked its lips. The experience would be different. Zvezdana was awake on the inside, having a third party view to the event. She would be forced to watch, unable to do anything, as the Sessfiend murdered her brother. It would torture and devour him as slowly as possible to cause her the most pain. She wanted to call out to him, force the transformation. Instead, the beast silenced her, completely in control. She was unable to tell him to run.

All she could do was watch as the beast charged forward.

[Andráska Venora]

48th of Ashan, 717

His bolt shot through the icy air with a sharp hiss and he watched it embed itself into the beast's neck. Already his fingers were reloading his crossbow, eyes firmly planted on his target as his hands moved with practiced skill. He was biting back his fear with memories of Zvezdana and his brief time with Alzorn, every intake of cold air burning his lungs and holding him in place as the beast began to bound forward.

He lifted the bow and stared down death, glaring with determination and passion. Finger pulling back the trigger, another bolt shot from the weapon and he jumped out of the way, jerking to the side and turning on his heels. Adrenaline was pumping through his body now, spurring him onward and he was racing down the streets, hoping to lure the creature away from its carnage. The less havoc it sowed, the better and so he couldn’t propel himself around buildings fast enough. Flurries fell from the sky and his boots slid across the stone streets, nearly sending him colliding into the buildings. His hands gripped at corners and street posts - anything that could use as momentum in the chase.

So often, Andraska had been used to pursuing, and in the sudden turn of events, he had become the prey. He could always turn around, draw his sword, but what use was it against fire and wrath? He had no idea what he was up against, let alone how to fight it. The weight of the shield was heavy on his back, and with the new steel armor, his body struggled to endure the capacity of his current weight. Andraska urged his legs to run faster - to save himself.

Even as he ran down unfamiliar streets, he cursed when he ran around a corner and found himself coming to a dead end. His heart was pounding and for a second, he glimpsed upwards, noticing a metallic ladder - a fire escape, and perhaps his only escape.

Far too encumbered with his armor, his next move was not stealthy. It was loud and obvious, but if he could get some sort of leverage, perhaps he could attack from above. Wasting no time, he leapt upwards, his height giving him an advantage as he gripped the bottom of the ladder and his muscles strained to pull his weight. He grunted, and climbed for dear life, each grip on the next rung a desperate scramble.

The beast was in pursuit and Andraska could feel its hot breath tickling his neck as it followed after. A loud clatter crashed beneath him, and unable to see its movements, the young noble could feel it watching him and the heat as fire licked his boots and burned at the back of his thighs. If there was ever motivation to move faster, the lord found it, throwing himself onto the roof top and collapsing in an exhausted heap. His breath was visible, rising and falling in quick succession, and his lungs felt raw. He rolled over, pushing himself to his feet and flexed his arm.

When he had tossed himself upon the roof, most of his weight had fallen on his right arm and a quick pain distracted him. It wasn’t nearly as intense or as terrifying as the fire that had washed over the back of his legs, but with prolonged flame, there was no doubt the armor would get very hot… The idea of being cooked alive did not sound appealing.

He regained his sense, trying to control his mind that was running a thousand miles per hour. Reloading his weapon, he crept towards the edge of the roof, trying to gain the semblance of a plan. Beneath he could hear the crunch of the beast’s paws on the thin layer of snow and sleet, and he pulled back. Andras double checked his weaponry and with a bit of effort, slid his shield from his back and slipped his arm in the straps. It covered his forearm and a decent portion of his body. With the bright Venora rose, there was little doubt for who he fought for, and he felt very much like a man going off to war.

Smoke still rose from the burning streets and he could hear the cries of the injured lifting to the skies. This was a horror that would stain Rharne for seasons to come. Towns could be rebuilt - the people would remember. Bodies of knights were coming in dispatches from the higher ground, but it would still be some before they made it fully to the dust quarter. The few already around were preoccupied with trying to save those from burning to death and rush every citizen to safety. Where exactly was safe was a greater question.

As his green eyes scanned the city and he wondered where a lightening immortal was when you needed her, a shimmering beacon seemed to glow and flicker, catching the slightest hints of growing flame and he squinted, seeing it for what it was: a shop of… mirrors?

A plan began to formulate in his mind, brought on by necessity and distress. If he could just make it there… maybe he could fool the beast? Find a way to sneak up on it….

Strange images began to flood his mind, memories of imagination muddled and fuzzy. Black hair splashed on plush pillows. Strawberries. Soft skin. Andraska jogged backwards, stopped, and exhaled, charging forward and putting all his energy to his legs to launch him forward. His body propelled across the edge of the roof and a gentle whisper tickled his mind, “Don’t leave me, Andráska...”

Teeth snapped beneath him, and the snow on the next roof caused his feet to slip in landing, sending him sprawling and sliding, his feet flying from beneath him. His head snapped back, slamming into the hard roof and white flashed in his vision as his skull ached. He bit his tongue to keep from shouting and he tasted blood. He groaned, rolling over as his body vibrated with pain from the impact. He laid there for a moment, the cold biting into the exposed cloth of his armor and chilling him. The voice brushed against his memory, trying to will him to remember, “I wish to love you…” he blinked, attempting to sit up, “... when I wake…”

He had to get up. He coughed. Where was Zvezdana? Alzorn? Rising to his feet once more, he looked to the outline of the cathedral, and then to the mirror shop. He had to do this. Footsteps heavy with purpose, he retrieved the crossbow, having dropped it in his slip. Toward the edge of the next roof he move, spotting the sessfiend and shooting with a ruthless aim. Hoping to buy himself some time, he slipped the crossbow strap across his chest and used his free hands to grip the hand rails of a ladder and slid down the the frozen metal. Each notch bit into his bare hands and cut them open as he scaled down and knocked his knee on the way down.

The moment his feet touched the ground, he was running off, hobbling until the pain was familiar and forgotten, running in the direction he thought he saw the mirror shop. It was a shot in the dark, but he had to try. His side began to ache, and he pushed past it, gritting his teeth. Around one building he ran, and then another. “Come on,” he begged to no one in particular - perhaps the city, hoping for anything that could lead him.

More flames licked his heels, each time he rounded a corner and he gasped when he emerged from an alley and like a prayer answered, the mirror shop stood tall and bright. Any pedestrians on the streets screamed and dispersed, and he held his shield close and rushed into the large establishment. Immediately a hundred reflections surrounded him, and he weaved in and out of the glass frames, pulling any mirrors behind him to conceal his path. His hands were shaking, and at long last, his blade sighed as it was released from its sheath.

Andráska Venora was ready to fight, and the last piece of the voice called out to him once more, “Will you still love me too?”

[Zvezdana Venora]

This time, the bolt landed squarely in the nose of the right head, forcing it to pause in its bounding. It may have been for a breath, but a breath was enough to give the man a head start. Zvezdana let out a sigh of relief from within the beast. Anything that would buy him time was an extra trill he hadn’t had before. The more time he had to put distance between him and the Sessfiend, the more likely he was to live. The bolts were like porcupine quills; a small annoyance to the beast, nothing more. The good head looked on as Andráska made his getaway, the other head swatting blinding at the twig in the sinew of its nose. Once that bolt was broken, the beast refocused on the man, more determined than ever.

He will die. One way or another.

Unable to respond, Zvezdana felt her heart plummet. Even in the failing suns of Ashan, she could tell everything was against him. The beast took off, leaving the burning building behind it. It was not long before the beast was just about to overtake Andráska. Of course, the Rynmere soldier was too intelligent. Just as the Sessfiend was ready to make a final jump onto the man, he bolted into an alleyway. Having too much momentum, the Sessfiend made a wide arc in the main street, circling until it was straight on with the alley. Dead end. Picking up extra speed, the beast had every intent to catch the soldier and pin him up against the alley. Instead, András hauled himself straight up.

The ground was slick with snow and sleet. The beast tried to stop, but it’s hind legs fell out from under it. In a sitting position, it slid right underneath him. One head watched the wall come at it, the other snapped at its Andráska’s boot in failure. Soon, the Sessfiend was sliding into a trash pile. Empty cans clattered onto the cobblestone, spoiled food clinging to the black spikes on its back. Shakily, it stood up, a peel of some forgotten fruit draped on the left head like a terrible hair-do. It’s growls grew louder as the flames deep within its throat began to fester. Soon, the ball of fire manifested itself. If it could not eat it raw, then it would simply boil it as a stew.

Some miracle saved the young noble. He hauled himself over just in time as the fireball sailed past him into the darkening sky. It lit up the surrounding area before it fizzled out. Angered, the beast reared up on the wall, digging razor sharp claws onto the brick. Zvezdana sat back, smug. Andráska had come a long way. Never before would she have imagined her young brother running down a street from a demon dog in full plate armor and still have the strength to haul himself up onto a roof. He was no longer the boy that she threw snowballs with. He was a real man, capable of completing great feats. Meanwhile, the beast pulled a brick or two down as it attempted to pull itself up.

It paced with anticipation. His meal would have to come down at some point. Or so it thought. Instead, trills too late, it found itself jumping for a fleeing meal. Once again, it’s teeth only caught air as Andráska moved from one roof to the next. Rage filled it, the heads howling to the sky as it mourned it’s failure.

The beast moved around the building to the next alley, one head up the entire time. As it rounded the corner where it anticipated the man to be, it received another bolt to the head. Having come from above the Sessfiend, the bolt landed directly in the left head’s forehead. With thick temporal muscles and a thick skull, the bolt did little damage; however, it was a highly embarrassing placement. Given the angle and location, the bolt made the left head appear as if it was a horn. Now the two headed mongrel was half unicorn. Demon and fanciful beast. Clearly the artist in Andráska was showing. This gave the soldier yet another opportunity, as the Sessfiend spent far too much time trying to remove the twig. Forelegs were too short to lift a paw up to swipe at it, and the heads were bickering it appeared over the pain. The right head snapped in efforts to help but the left head only retaliated.

The scent of blood dragged the beast into reality. Once again it moved to the other side of the building where it found another ladder. Fresh and cooling blood dribbled down the sides. It sniffed, the tongues lapping at either side respectfully as it savored the flavor. Zvezdana wanted to vomit, but given her suspended spirit, that was not a possibility at the moment. The fire tongues eventually caused enough damage to the ladder for the bottom half to fall onto the cobblestone with a clang. So much for their shishkabob of blood and tissue. Again, the subtle treat had been enough to distract the monster.

Once more it was on the chase, but it was slower this time. The smoke that poured from it’s back had slowed to a trickle. It was hungry and sluggish. It was also enjoying the chase and desired to make it last. Andráska would eventually tire, long before the suns rose and the Sessfiend was forced to change back. It had more time than the mortal noble, why not take it.

Fireballs were launched after the man, forcing him to turn to save his skin. Charred areas on the street and burning boxes of goods were left in the beast’s wake. Men, women, and children ran screaming from it. Soon, it rounded the corner just as the soldier dove into a shop. At least: he was cornered.

Each step the beast took was accentuated by the click of claws on stone and the crunch of ice beneath paw pads. One solid swipe and the door frame was large enough for the beast to scrunch its way into the gallery. What it was met with were dozens of glowing red eyes. Confused, the beast opened its mouth, two fire snakes representing it’s tongues dropping into the area. The replicated eyes did the same. Fire glowed back, mimicking its every move.

What is the meaning of this?

The Sessfiend approached one of the sets of eyes. Was this magic? An illusion to provide time for the man to get away? Soon, it was practically nose-to-nose with itself. It was at that time it realized what had happened. The spikes on the back of its neck seemed to stand straighter, the muscles tensing up. This was no illusion. These were mirrors.

Zvezdana watched from the inside. She had never seen the beast before as she had always remained dormant during its escapades. At that moment, she got a good look at the Sessfiend. No, at herself. There was no denying that they were one and the same. In the mirror, the bloodied twin dog heads stared back at her. Between them, as if a ghost, stood a naked Zvezdana in it’s heart. No matter how she tried to spin it, this was her curse. She was the Sessfiend. All the lives that she had taken since Syroa had answered her cries, all the pain and destruction she had caused; that was all her doing. A glint of metal in the background made the beast spin around, it’s tail cracking one of the mirrors into small shards.

Andráska was in here somewhere with the Sessfiend. It was then that the sad realization struck her. Her heart seemed to break at that moment as a faded memory - or was it a dream - plucked at the deepest darkest secret.

”Perfection.”

Would he see her as perfect now, if he knew her to be the monster? Again the beast took out another mirror, further enraged by the fact that it could not find its prey. That was the Sessfiend’s goal. Glittering reflections sprinkled to the ground. The shards that splintered onto the floor and dug into its paw pads caused it to leave blood paw prints everywhere. The mirrors were doing far more damage than the bolts had done. It struck out at another standing more, the shards lacerating some of the muscle on its foreleg. Rancid, hot blood splattered to the ground. The beast looked down. Many small, cracked, distorted Sessfiend’s stared back. If only he knew who he was fighting. If he knew, he would have continued to run and would not be intent on standing his ground. It was in that moment, that Zvezdana realized her terrible predicament.

Andráska truly thought he was fighting a monster.

[Andráska Venora]

48th of Ashan, 717

The Sessfiend prowled outside before Andraska heard a great crash and the beast pushed its way into the gallery. He pressed himself against a wall, trying to stick to what little shadows there were, but with the flames frothing from the beast’s mouth, light bounced off each reflective surface, creating a myriad of illumination. It stared at its reflection, and then shattered it, once and then twice. It’s tail was like a whip that slashed to and fro, and the heat radiating from the monster’s body soon filled the enclosed space. They were running out of time. It wouldn’t take long for the beasts to shatter all the mirrors. He had to act now.

Scraping the tip of his sword on the ground, he moved slowly, imitations of him appearing and disappearing in certain mirrors as he weaved between frames. One moment he was in front of the monster, the second he was behind her. It seemed the Sessfiend wasn’t the only one capable of playing games, and he said as much when a blade shot out and sliced at a tendon in one of the Sessfiend’s legs. As soon as the blade licked skin, and blood decorated his blade, the creature roared, sending flames flying and it barely gave Andraska enough time to lift his shield. He ducked his head low, but he could feel the fire beating around him. Mirrors were being blackened and he pushed himself forward, the smell of charred hair tickling his nose. A number of frames were alight now, and his armor was starting to get warm. Sweat trickled down his forehead and the noble jumped forward, slashing at the monster’s side, and trying to use his shield. Slow on the uptake, the beast reared around, lifting a bloody paw and scraping razor sharp claws against the metal.

The sound was terrible, and the impact jerked him around, and he felt his arm would be ripped off. The tendon on his arm strained, but soon it was over and he was left reeling for his balance, almost sprawling to the floor. Andraska straightened, expression grim and serious. Faintly he could hear knights circling outside, but none were willing to enter a building quickly going up in flames with a seething horror.

Andras leapt backward to avoid another hit, hitting a mirror and sending it crashing to the ground. He was breathing heavier now, his body sweltering and he gripped his sword. Sweat electrified every cut on his body, and his body buzzed. The noble was trying to circle and get a better advantage, but looking to the side, he saw the reflection of a head just as it was rearing around to snap at his head.

With all his might he twisted and threw his shield arm, much like he would have thrown a punch in a fight, but this time it was with his whole body. The metal collided with the snout of the one of the heads, and Sessfiend reared back - furious. He hoped it had been disoriented, but bloody and hungry, it continued to push onward. Andraska was getting panicked, clinging onto hope and love as he dodged a snap at his face. Fear was replacing sense, and he saw a blood soaked paw flying towards him.

Fatigued, the lord didn’t move fast enough and it collided with his chest, knocking him flying backwards. With a shout, his body jolted backwards, hitting mirrors in the collision and shattering them until his body was stopped by the unforgiving surface of brick. A pain exploded in his shield arm, a terrible crack and a short scream exploded from his chest.

The back of his head hit the stone and he threatened to black out, his vision fading in and out and sounds growing distorted. Hot liquid seeped into this arms and he laid slumped in a pool of glass. His head lulled to the side, and he blinked numbly at the blood at the large shard of glass jutting from his wrist. Adrenaline kept his body from feeling the injury completely and his mouth was slack.

He… he was going to die.

The Sessfiend was coming, bleeding and snarling. It moved slowly, having finally corned its prey with no place for it to run. He tried to will his good arm to reach for the sword that had clattered away, but it was like he was stuck in a jar of molasses. Everything was slow and draining, and the beast was before him. Had it been a human, he was sure it would be grinning. A paw lifted and its claws dug into the leather of his boot, sinking into his Achilles tendon and pulling forward. He screamed again, unable to stop the hot tears from streaking his face. Even his shield came loose from the awkwardly bent arm, and he was pulled free of its protection.

Like a unfeeling corpse, he was dragged forward by his ankle until he was limp and weak beneath the Sessfiend. It’s burning eyes peered down at him and it snapped by its ear, testing his reflex and playing cruelly with him. All he could hear was the crackling of fire, the thrum of his heart pumping as his world burned around him. His lips were parted and his green eyes were rolling, trying to shut.

He hoped desperately that Zvezdana had Alzorn in her arms and they were safe. Maybe tucked away into the deepest part of the cathedral with other refugees, Ilaren protecting them all. Andráska swallowed, soothed by the thought until a great weight was lifted and thrown into his chest. Afraid to be losing its audience, the Sessfiend lifted on its hind legs and used a paw to come down on his torso - and he jolted. All the air left his lungs, leaving him gasping and a great pressure as the hot steel was bent and folded inward, pressing against his heart.

It was killing him slowly and he was allowing it. He squirmed for a moment but his strength had faded. Since when did he give up? Looking defiantly into the monster’s eyes, his lips curled upwards in a terrifying smile. Andráska Venora was a violent bramble - digging his thorns into those who tried to stifle him, and protected his family of roses.

Using the last reserve of his energy, Andráska ripped the shard of glass jutting from wrist and gripped it with vengeance. Blood sprayed from his torn artery and in one fluid moment - one of his last - he shoved it upwards and into the the chest of the beast, feeling the skin split and twisting it in terrible revenge.

Weeds were not so easy to get rid of.

[Zvezdana Venora]

The Sessfiend was filled with rage, more than any Zvezdana had ever felt. Its reflection was fueling the fire, fresh fuel added with every new mirror it broke. One reflection became thousands of tiny images, all little monsters staring up at it from the glittering floor. Bloody paw prints blocked some of the images, the crimson liquid obscuring the reflection. Smoke plumed from its back in thin tendrils, filling the room and leaking out of the broken door way and windows. It struck out at another one of its reflections before refocusing on the mirror with Andráska’s form in it. It thought it had the man, but then the image was gone. With a growl of frustration, the beast split its heads, looking for the soldier. One caught a glimpse of him in a mirror behind it. It turned around, but not in time for the slash to cut into a ligament.

Flames poured from its mouth as it cried out, licking at nearby mirrors. Smaller pieces were began to melt into the floorboards. These would become slippery to the beast, with bloody paw pads and claws seeking traction. One head pulled back, drawing deep from the furnace in its chest. Andráska had just enough time to lift his shield as the maw of the right head opened up, pouring searing heat onto it. Boil the man in his metal armor, claw out his innards, decapitate him; whatever it took, the beast would see this man dead. Needing to take a breath, the beast stopped spouting hell fires. The blade ripped into its side, opening up a superficial wound through the muscle. Blood dripped and then stopped as the beast began to heal. Already the wound on its ankle was gone, and the laceration to its side was in the process of healing. It would need to eat soon if it wished to keep its performing healing feats. Despite the steel wounds healing, the wounds from the mirrors remained.

It spun around quicker than Andráska would have anticipated. Its tail whipped some mirrors off their stands, shattering them against the floor. Some teetered, but remained standing, cracked from the impact of the appendage. It’s claws connected with the shield, tearing through the decorative paint in four long lines. So much for the perfect gift.

The environment that they were in was bright, despite it being dark outside. The fires that licked at the floor boards reflected in the mirrors around them, illuminating the them to those outside. Who would dare enter a confined area to fight a two-headed demon dog that breathed fire? The Lightning Knights that had made it simply waited, watching. The building would cave in eventually, and the beast would suffer death by building. One way or another, it would die. The soldier would simply be a sacrifice. A necessary sacrifice.

The Sessfiend came closer, the two heads having parted to come from different sides. One chomped into a mirror, having mistaken Andráska’s reflection for the real thing. The other had been seen. Its teeth snapped on air. The other head shook and scratched at its face, reflective glass jammed in its teeth. Bubbling blood fell from wounded gums, hissing and boiling when it hit the ground. The left head, busy with the wounds only pissed the right head off more. The right head began to act, but did so too late. The beast received a solid shield bash to its face, crushing the bone of its nasal passage. Furious, the beast reared up, both heads suffering vast amounts of pain. Even when it had suffered bludgeoning blows from Peake, this seemed to be worse. Had there been mirror shards adhered to the shield? Maybe. There was far too much debris to rule it out.

It pushed through the pain, the left head finally coming around. It lifted it’s forelimb, swinging wide. Andráska was slower, weaker, exhausted. It could tell.

It was winning.

Its paw connected with the breastplate, leaving superficial scratches across the Ouroboros sigil in the steel. A parting gift for its meal. After all, it was a betrayal to the vessel. That was what it had been born for. Cries of agony had caused her to draw Syroa’s gaze. Kill the king. Watch Rynmere burn. All were reasons for the Sessfiend’s birth. A sharp thud of his metal plate connecting with the brick perked the beast up. He crumpled, but he didn’t smell dead. No. It could hear his labored breathing. Glittering mirror showered them both as it stepped forward with raised heads. It was no longer on guard. Both heads almost looked like they were smiling.

It had won.

Only a pace in front of Andráska, the beast leaned forward, a claw sinking into leather boot and soldier’s flesh. It dragged its meal across the reflective floorboards until Andráska was underneath it. One head yipped playfully while the other head dropped down to sniff it’s face. Hot blood dripped onto his cheek as the teeth clicked shut next to his ear. It confirmed that Andráska was not going anywhere.

Are you watching? Don’t you see what rage can do?

Inside, Zvezdana was crying. How was she going to live with herself? The beast had won. It was about to take one of the few people that meant the world to her. She tried to reach out, but it only spurred the beast to do something similar. It beat a paw into the breast plate, folding the searing metal onto his chest. It would burn more than lacerate. At least, he would not live to have to suffer the gruesome scar above his heart. Despite the feelings of joy the beast felt, blood began to leak from its eyes. It appeared to be crying, an external embodiment of Zvezdana’s feelings.

It was time to end this. With blood trailing down from its eyes, it positioned its teeth over his neck. It would do some justice to the soldier, having done more damage and fought harder than most. A quick death would be honorable. Then it could savor every drop of blood in his body, feasting upon a delicacy that directly connected to the heart of its vessel.

Searing pain erupted from its chest causing the beast to rear up. Unbalanced, it fell backwards. One of the spine cracked off as it fell until it rolled safely to one side. It kicked and howled, whines mixing in between cries. The mirror seemed to burn into the side that made contact with the ground. Deep within its chest, the shard of glass the soldier had used connected with its black heart. The eyes of one head faded, simmering out until they were black coals. Its tongue lolled helpless, one half dead as the other struggled to live. The other whimpered helplessly as its muscle and sinew began to liquefy and drip from the skeleton. Its whimpers became human cries and sobs as it released its hold on reality.

In a puddle of blood, tissue, and mirror, Zvezdana lay gasping with the shard of mirror wedged in the left side of her ribcage, to the side and under her breast. The point was jabbed into her heart. With every beat, it dealt more damage. Blood slipped down the sleek, reflective edge, past her skin and onto the floor to join with that of the Sessfiend’s. It has punctured a lung, the air that she sucked through her clenched teeth slipping into her chest cavity. Either she would die from blood loss, a far too damaged heart, or suffocation when her lung did not fill with air. Whichever way, it was painful. Extremely so.

She lay there, unable to move. With eyes wide open, she tilted her head every so slightly to bring Andráska into view. Her fingers pulled her arm across the floor as she reached for him, wheezing.

“Andras…”

[Andráska Venora]

48th of Ashan, 717

The world was spinning in slow motion, leaving Andraska to do nothing but hold on tight and try and endure like he always had. Once the shard had been shoved into the fiend, there was little more he could do. He was weak and he could feel his body draining when his head rolled to the side and he watched the beast’s eyes dim one by one. Had he… won?

Had he stood a chance? He wanted to sit up, but his body was far too weak and the metal of his chest plate too tight. He coughed, chest racking with discomfort and he felt his limbs grow heavier. His heartbeat was weakening now, and his eyes closed.

Smoke rose and swirled above, and his mind lulled with sleep. He was so tired. But… Rharne was safe. Alzorn was safe. Zvezdana was…

“Andras…”

His eyes shot open at the familiar, fading voice. Before his was his sister, her fingers were outstretched towards him and in the nightmare was amplified. He gave a strange cry of horror, seeing her collapsed where the beast had been. Her own chest held the shard he had used and confusion ripped him apart.

“Blue?” His voice cracked, coarse from smoke and screaming, “Zvezdana?” She was dying! He… he… he killed her. “No,” he begged, clawing his way towards her. What was happening? The physical pain was nothing compared to the searing torment that engulfed his soul. She was the monster? No!

His fingers wrapped around hers, and he grit his teeth and cried, pulling his broken body towards her, “I didn’t know, Blue,” his voice was helpless and childlike, shattering like the glass around them and he felt disgust with himself, “I’m… I’m so sorry. Please.”

“Please, no.”

He had done this, and he never got to explain himself. This was the opposite of what he wanted to happen. She was supposed to come home with him! She was supposed to raise Alzorn and they were gonna have fun together! He was gonna play her songs and they would dance. Instead, she was bleeding by his hands, and guilt stole his will to live.

Andraska didn’t want her to hate him and the thought was unbearable. What had he done? What would his family think? Not in the least bit concerned with the opinion of the king, the noble knew that these would be his last moments on Idalos and he had done something so unforgivable.

“I… I love you.” he cried, sobbing. A piece of him hoped this was some sort of trick from the beast - that he could live through this and she would still be there, waiting at the cathedral. Not here… Not now… Not dying.

Beams in the ceiling cracked and he tried to put his arm around her, “Please…” Would they die together? So many people were scared of dying alone, but this was perhaps a fate worse than death. Battered and bloody the two Venora children were only outlines of their former beauty, and Andraska’s hand hovered over the shard, horrified until he could no longer look and he buried his face into her matted hair.

So many things he wanted to say, but he didn’t have the time. Each word took a physical toll on him until he was breathless. ’I’m sorry’ he silently wailed, the words a haunting mantra, repeating over and over within his spiraling mind. All his sister had ever wanted was to be loved, and he had repaid his promise to bring her peace of mind by ending her life. What kind of brother was he, to fulfill a promise with such savagery?

He was struggling to move now, and his vision began to darken around the edges - consciousness fading as his body continued to fail, “Please don’t leave me.”

[Zvezdana Venora]

.
.
.

Andráska was still alive. Pained, happy tears rolled down her face. The tremors that wracked her body were followed by searing pain, but it did not change the fact that he was still alive. He may be dying, just as she was, but he was still alive. She could tell him things, in the trills to bits that she had left. She saved her whispers, focusing on watching him join her. Even with all the damage that she had done as the beast, he was pushing through. He had become so strong, so brave, and so noble. He did what he felt was right, no matter who would think less of him. This day, he fought a beast because he thought it was right. She smiled, thinking back to their youth. Even if he had changed a bit, he was still the same naive boy that she loved.

His words struck her like heavy stones being thrown at her. The guilt that dragged the words down was present. Oh how she wanted to take the time to soothe his aches and pains, to tell him that this wasn’t his fault. He had done justice on behalf of Rynmere, everyone she had killed in Andaris, and Rharne. What if the beast had triumphed over him? Whom else would she have hurt? Innocents, all of them. Alzorn. She would not have been able to survive watching the beast kill her son.

His arm wrapped about her waist, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. It was a long sigh, but it was not her last breath. With a shaking, pale hand, she reached up to stroke the sweaty head, smiling all the time. He was close enough that she would use whatever life she had left to say what she needed to say.

“András,” Her voice cracked and shook, barely audible. She wheezed again, his ear conveniently next to her lips. She continued to moved her fingers weakly through his hair, catching it however she could to remind her of a dream. A distant dream where they had been intertwined as one. Now, she lay there bloodied and naked next to a man bound in steel.

Where did she start? Over the last few seasons, she yearned for him in a capacity she had never felt before. She loved her brother as a man, not a sibling. She had denied her feelings up until this very moment. With no time, there was no reason to tell him all of that. They were desires of a stupid, lonely girl. “I was g-g-going to t-t-tell you.”

The chill was beginning to set in. Her toes and her fingers were numb as the blood began to consolidated to her core. It was attempting to keep her heart beating for as long as possible. Air continued to fill her chest cavity, making it harder and harder to breath as life liquid dripped out of her wound. “There is s-s-so much I want to t-t-tell you. Aaaah,” A gasp exited her lips, her fingers tightening on the back of her neck as she stupidly shifted. The pain reminded her not to move.

“You kept your promise,” Zvezdana stated firmly, guiding his head up so that she could look at him in the face. Her eyes were glossy with tears, fatigue, and pain, but love seemed to triumph most of all. These next statements took most of the energy that she had left. “Andráska, do not blame yourself. You have done me a great service. You have done Idalos a favor by killing me. I can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Tears blurred her vision as she continued, visage saddened suddenly. “If only I was not taking your life. That will be my greatest sin.”

Ba-dump.

She took a few breaths, the whistling sound of air being sucked in around the shard of mirror evident. She was running out of time. The tears came more forcefully now, her body pulsating with each sob. It spurred the cycle, pain causing more tears and tears causing more pain. Oh how she wished she had burned to death and that he never knew it was her. She wished that she could have just melted away like the beast and been deemed missing. Instead, he would only remember her as the beast, the one that killed him. It destroyed her from the inside out.

Zvezdana tried to collect herself, but was having great difficulty doing so. “I wish I could stay Andráska. I only want to be with you. Where I’m going, you cannot follow.”

They were polar opposites. She was darkness and he was light. He built and she destroyed. Andráska was good and Zvezdana was evil portrayed. He would go to the place where souls rejoiced their life and her soul would either fade to nothing or be tortured in the afterlife. Redemption had not come for her. There was a good chance she would join the Ej’Ryn on Haakon’s Isle and he would continue on to Emea. She would look up for eternity, unable to be with him as her punishment.

Ba-dump

She ran her hand down his cheek, smiling pathetically one last time. With the last of her energy, she lifted her head up, placing her forehead against his. “I love you,” Zvezdana leaned in, placing a weakening kiss against his lips before laying back down. Her hand remained on his cheek for a trill more.

Ba-dump

Ba-dump

Nothing.

Zvezdana Venora was gone.

.

[Andráska Venora]

48th of Ashan, 717

Cool lips smeared with blood rested upon his and Zvezdana pulled back. She had said her piece, each word ripping into him as he was reminded just how much pain she was in. Eyes so filled with love and torment stared back at him, and he pinched his eyes closed as she said her final words. “I love you too,” he whispered, remembering the day they played in the snow. She had called him her knight in shining armor. What kind of hero was he now? He surely did not feel like one.

Cold was seeping into his form, his body catching up with his mind. A shock began to settle in, freezing him despite the heat radiating around him and the flames that danced among the shattered mirrors.Would he be burned alive before death could claim him? Andraska Venora opened his eyes with a great effort, each lid demanding rest. When his green eyes finally pried themselves open, they stared into dull blue ones - the spark gone from within the irises and instead settling a great numbness inside the Venora.

She was… gone? Really, truly gone?

The orbs that had been her nickname were now so blank and lifeless, Andraska Venora had to turn away, still feeling her hand holding his cheek. His head moved to the other side as he rolled onto his back and sobbed weakly. Had he more energy, the sounds would have been of loud anguish, the passion he usually felt soured to a great grief.

In a terrible way, he knew she had been right, yet he couldn’t stop asking himself if it had been the only way. She was going to tell him of the beast that raged inside, and he was going to tell her of his joining of the guard. Secrets had always gotten between them and even in the end, they had never been able to fully be honest with one another.

The black tendrils of his vision began to fade in and out, the blood around them gruesome and as red as summer roses. He remembered her words and hated them: ”Where I am going, you cannot follow.”

In different circumstances, he would have challenged her, but he had little will to do anything else. He laid there, hoping death would come quickly so he could chase her, and his labored breathing soon softened as Andraska Venora’s body began to fail.

With each inhale, his heart weakened, until he was little more than a husk as his physical form gave out. The world was nothing but shadows now, and his body went slack to embrace inevitable death - his soul longing to be freed.

Continued in The Precipice.