Insignia: The Light's Lament

*TRIGGER WARNING* Explicit sexual abuse scenes. Please don't read further than you're comfortable with.



Prologue: Fieran the Abomination
 

 
      Fieran paced restlessly, betraying his desperate impatience that compelled him to brutally murder everyone in the room. Though he knew ending their wretched lives would only stall his plans further, they had failed to retrieve his most prized possession, the only thing he ever genuinely desired that did not want him back. She continued to evade his every endeavor to make her return. He would need every body there was to achieve his destination. He snarled a vicious threat in an ancient demonic dialect by the name of D’Ariq toward the chief zealot. With a panicked expression, the cultist immediately began barking orders to his acolytes, desperately attempting to bind a decomposed carcass to an ornate stone cross.
      Fieran stared coldly at the cultists, vaguely wondering if they could feel his loathsome glare on their backs. They were docile cowards, every one of them. Their fear of him was palpable as ever; for he had made it quite an unmistakable point that their end was nigh if they did not do accomplish this task. Earlier in the night, he had gouged a dark stream of magic into their souls, to the very center of their existence, but more importantly, their humanity. This gave them only a slight glimpse of the torture they were to endure before meeting their untimely deaths if any tasks were left unattended to. Even that had been too much for them. They fell to the ground, thrashing and writhing in agony, and then, meekly attempting to compose themselves, they hastily set to the duties assigned without cry or complaint. Fieran wandered away from the grisly preparations, closing his eyes and envisioning his betrothed, the dark elf he had loved ever since he had first seen her. A wave of overwhelming sadness and uncontrollable rage turned the hue of his vision to a deep red. She ran from me, he thought, shedding an angry tear, and I loved her. But she had fought him, and passionately exclaimed that she had finally escaped him as she disappeared into the dusk. And his self-proclaimed omnipotence and blinding hubris left him rooted to the spot.
He was so livid, he hardly noticed that he had taken one of the younger acolytes by the throat and dug his thumbs into it as he squeezed. Everything went red again as the acolyte’s hot blood sprayed over his clothes and spattered his lips. He tilted his head back and licked his lips, savoring the salty taste of her blood, and let go of her mangled neck, letting her body hit the ground with a loud thud. The others fearfully averted their gazes and returned to the preparations for their ritual. I will get you, Xune, he thought as a maniacal grin lit his face. I swear I will. And you will pay for the pain you have put me through. I will see to that.
 
 
 
 Chapter 1: The Introduction
 
          Xune felt a persistent tap on her shoulder. Blearily lifting her head from the table, she focused her eyes on a tall, imposing figure scowling threateningly. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sergeant Morris, her oldest and closest friend. He is only angry because he wants her to meet a sun elf cleric, of all people. People who used religion and nonsensical tripe to convince themselves they had something to fight for, yet they enjoyed the thrill of the kill and the powerful abilities that came with it. As a dark elf and rogue assassin, the last person she should even associate herself with would be a cleric, especially in an adventuring party of only two people. Yet there he stood, tapping his foot, waiting for her to say something, as though he did not have enough to say. She glared at him defiantly.
        “What in the nine Hells do you think you are doing?! Surya has been waiting for a full quarter of an hour. Go wash up and put your damn gear on!” He turned on his heel and walked away. She glared at the back of his head. Who was he to judge her? He was so annoyed with HER nightly excursions with the bottle that he always failed to acknowledge his own.
      “Yes, your Majesty.” Xune muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. He did not look back, but she heard a loud, exasperated groan from behind the tavern door when it swung shut. She scowled and made her way up to her room. An overwhelming sense of melancholy suddenly took her breath away. She understood why he was so angry. He wanted to help her, but he could not until he got help himself. But they both had more than enough reason to partake in the bliss of the bottle.
       She took her time getting ready, filling a bath, and washing the scent of spirits off her dark grey skin. It was over all too quickly, and as soon as she put up her raven-black hair in her signature dual buns, she developed a searing headache, one she knew all too well, the after-effects of too much ale and an insignificant amount of sleep, paired with the dark elves’ inability to linger in direct sunlight without protection. Perhaps the pain would have alleviated slightly if she kept her hair down, but that was never going to happen. Never again. She sighed heavily and donned her adventuring gear with great difficulty. Completing her morning routine, she walked down the stairs of the tavern’s inn and stepped into the blinding light of the outdoors. There were people everywhere, adventurers and commoners alike, milling about and beginning their daily duties and responsibilities. She suddenly spots the sergeant standing with Surya, some fifty yards away from the tavern’s entrance. She started to walk, only to halt when the elf’s icy blue eyes met Xune’s silvery ones. The bright sun elf was tapping her foot irritably, obviously impatient with Xune’s sluggish pace. She can wait, Xune thought. When she finally reached them, the sergeant got straight to the point.
     “Surya, this is the one I was telling you about. Her name is Xune.”
      Surya glared at her coldly. “It was considerate of you to finally show your face,” she snapped. “Could you maybe keep your fucking voice down?” Xune retorted, staring her down with a vicious glint in her eye. Surya was taken aback, and the sergeant looked ready to hit her. Yet she stood her ground. There was no scenario where she would allow a sun elf cleric to treat her as an imbecile and do nothing about it.
       “That’s enough, Xune,” Morris said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Shut your mouth and saddle the horses. You are doing this whether you like it or not.” Surya wheeled around to face him. “I am not working with this… Repulsive creature!” she exclaimed with disgust. She shot Xune a look of such venom, Xune tensed up. I am not going to be spoken to like this, she thought angrily. Before Surya knew it, she was pinned to a wall, a dark red blade against her pale throat. “Listen to me, bitch! I will kill you if you do not stay out my way!” Xune was thrown back suddenly, engulfed in a shroud of bright white and gold light. Surya had pulled her golden relic from her belt and was now aiming it at Xune’s face. Neither of them moved, each of them waiting for the other to attack. The sergeant had finally had enough. He suddenly grabbed both and tossed them to opposites sides of the courtyard. They tumbled to the ground, looking up at him in shock. Xune had never seen him do something like this, and Surya had never had hands laid on her in her life. He looked at them, opening his mouth to yell, closed it, shook his head, and walked away without a word.
       Xune hung her head as Surya brushed the dirt off her robes and walked away in a huff. As the sun reached its peak, Xune went to the stables and saddled her black mare, Wraith, and a white palomino with a golden bridle that she could only assume was Surya’s. She spotted the blinding white satchel hanging from a nail on the wall and rolled her eyes. Only a complete amateur in the way of survival would leave a personal bag unattended in the port. She rummaged through it, retrieving a silver pouch of shining gold coins from the satchel and pocketing it with a smirk. She then went to retrieve her pack. Finally, she went to Sergeant Morris, retrieved their quest, and walked back to the stables, not letting him apologize like she knew he wanted to. Surya was already mounting her horse by the time she got back to the stables. She led her horse away, nudging him a little to pick up the pace. Xune rolled her eyes and quickly mounted Phantom. She took off after Surya at a steady trot and slowed down when she caught up with her. They rode in silence for what seemed like an hour. Xune distracted herself from her rage by pondering the task ahead.  A village had been ransacked by imps and goblins, and though both were by no means nonbelligerent, they had been uncontrollable this time, according to the warrior that had given the report to Sergeant Morris. The little beasts had pilfered everything, from trinkets and baubles to women and livestock. It was Xune and Surya’s quest to retrieve what was not destroyed and return it to their rightful owners. Xune felt uneasy, however, for the quest they had been assigned seemed all too familiar. They soon reached the rendezvous point they were to meet the soldiers at and took in the scene without flinching. Bloodied and bruised warriors lay on makeshift beds surrounding a large fire that warmed their weary bodies. Surya and Xune dismounted their horses and began to help administer healing potions and salves to the warriors’ wounds. After they were finished, Xune approached a warrior who looked to be the superior among the others. “Can you point me in the direction of the village? There is an indicator of where they took your village’s possessions. The warrior inclined his head slightly. “North. There are caves at the bottom of Mount Selene, you cannot miss them. The lake is directly in front, I expect you know how to get there?” He added, shooting Xune a look of disgust. Xune closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was something she had dealt with her entire life: fearful glances and hateful stares, all fueled by prejudice directed at her race. Dark elves were loathed far and wide for their wicked and unlawful ways, but she was not like them. This was her moment to prove that. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. We will be back by dusk tomorrow with your village’s possessions.” She smiled gently at him, knowing of the pain he felt at seeing his friends and neighbors fighting to remain alive. “A word of advice: do not judge by appearances. Just because others of the same race have destroyed my chance at redemption in the eyes of others, it does not mean that I am the same. I have no gripe with you, and I am only out to seek respect from those who would have me killed just for being a dark elf. I hope you understand someday because I am only here to help.” Without saying another word, she left the bewildered warrior, and spotted Surya staring at her, shocked. Xune hastily looked away and walked back to the horses to groom them before they left for the caves. She could still feel Surya’s eyes on her, but she tried to pay her no mind. She felt strange; there was a foreign emotion stirring in her dark heart that she vaguely identified as an attraction. She decided to ignore it; the last thing she needed right now was an emotional distraction from the task at hand. This feeling would never be reciprocated anyway, she thought, resolving to remain indifferent on the matter. Mounting her horse, she began to lead Phantom along the south trail, cautiously avoiding the tangled brambles and thorny vines that covered each side of the path. She could hear faint footsteps clopping along behind her, but she decided not to turn around. If Surya wanted to judge me for being courteous to a commoner, Xune raged internally, that was on her. They progressed through the two-hour expedition in total silence, the only noises to be heard consisted of bubbling clearwater creeks and rustling leaves permeating the air. Xune chanced a glance at Surya, who sat atop her palomino with her head held high, her icy blue eyes staring into the distance. Xune vaguely wondered what she could be thinking about. They eventually reached the quaint village, pausing to tether their horses. They had a lot of work ahead of them.
 
 

 Chapter 2

 
      Xune and Surya walked quietly through the village, stopping occasionally to whisper a prayer or an oath of vengeance. There was hardly anything left to salvage, as the fire had consumed everything. It was strange, however, because there was no mention of fire in the report that had been presented to Sergeant Morris. What was not scorched and reduced to cinders had been stolen, and several bodies were found stacked atop each other, eyes glassy and lifeless, forevermore trapped in a fearful stare. Xune stared at the piles of bodies, too horrified and angry to speak. Surya laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Xune smacked it away. “Desecration,” she snarled. “They shall pay for this with their lives.”
      Xune stalked away, kicking a rock aside in her haste to get away from the grisly sight. Surya shook her head and walked to the forest’s edge, leaning against a tree and fixed her eyes on a flowery shrub. She could see that Xune was not just a vulgar drunk, for she had heard the way she had spoken to that broken-spirited warrior. She had handled herself back there with such sincerity and maturity. Surya wondered what could have happened to Xune that would give her that much understanding of what he was going through. There was a sudden disturbance on her right. Surya slowly withdrew her holy symbol from her robes. She cautiously approached the disturbance and stopped when she saw what it was. A small child no older than three years of age was dangling from a spike embedded in the ground.
     The disturbance revealed itself as a shrike pecking at her eyes. Surya recoiled with horror and walked back to the village to find Xune, deciding not to tell her about what was in the forest. She spotted Xune by the village elder’s house, checking for traps. Her face and neck were covered with tears, and as soon as Surya began to approach her, she turned her back and wiped them away. Surya spoke her name softly, and Xune turned to face her reluctantly. “We’ll get them.”
        Surya slowly put her hand on Xune’s shoulder. Xune flinched but allowed the contact. She closed her eyes, as if drawing comfort from her companion’s touch. Reopening them, she nodded to Surya with the ghost of a smile, letting her know that she would be okay. They both set out on the north trail, making sure to cover their tracks as they went. Xune suggested that they could sneak through the thicket when they got closer to the caves, and that would give them more cover if they were to run into any trouble. Surya agreed with this, and they continued toward their destination, carefully avoiding dry areas of the forest where their horses’ footsteps would be like blasts of cannon in the eerie stillness. The sun was just starting to disappear below the horizon when they arrived at the entrance to the caves of Mount Selene. The two adventurers tied the reins of their horses to a post and began to prepare for a fight. Xune sharpened her blades and Surya whispered a prayer of protection as she charged her divinity. Her holy symbol glowed brightly, and Xune had to pause for a moment to appreciate how beautiful Surya looked haloed by the golden light. Xune smiled slightly and returned to what she was doing. She removed a jar of powerful healing salve and a few mana potions out of Phantom’s pack and placed them in Surya’s pack. When both women finished, dark and light, cynical and proud, they began to walk towards the mouth of the cave. Just before they walked out into the open, Xune pulled Surya into a bush.     “What are you--?” Surya began, but Xune shook her head. She put a finger to her lips, quieting Surya, and pulled a vial with a glowing substance out of her pack. She dipped Surya’s finger in the luminescent liquid and put it on Surya’s eyelids. “This will help you see in the dark,” she whispered. Surya nodded, making sure to stay behind Xune as they set off for the entrance again.
They were plunged into darkness almost immediately. The heavy, putrid stench of death and decay permeated the air, and Surya walked away, gagging and retching. Xune, however, was used to this miasma, and simply handed Surya a rag to cover her nose and mouth as they continued through the cave. Suddenly, Xune stopped walking and Surya walked into her. She stumbled and fell to the ground. Xune stood perfectly still, as if she were concentrating on something. Surya got up and grabbed Xune’s shoulder angrily and spun her around to face her. “What are you—?” Surya hissed. She stopped abruptly when she saw Xune’s face. Her face was pale, an odd contrast to her dark grey skin. Her eyes were glassy with fear and her mouth moved soundlessly, as if she were silently pleading for mercy from someone only, she could see. Her hands shook violently as she started hyperventilating. Surya began to shake her, fearing she had lost her fellow adventurer to the phantoms in her head. Xune grabbed onto Surya’s arm and began to whisper so quietly that Surya had to strain her ears to hear. “Listen to me. You need to get out of here and find Sergeant Morris. Tell him… Fieran has returned, and he has come for me. He will understand what it means. Go!”
     “But—” Surya started to object, but Xune put a hand over her mouth and began to whisper more urgently.
    “You are not listening to me, Surya. There is no time. We are both dead if you stay here. Run!” Xune pushed Surya back towards the entrance and ran further into the darkness. Surya stumbled toward the dwindling light and made her way to the horses. She mounted as quickly as she could and began to ride fast, trying to hold back the tears of fright that threatened to spill over. Just get there, she said to herself over and over. Get there before it is too late.

Chapter 3

     Xune followed the stench of death, lost in her own thoughts of despair and crippling fear. There was an underlying scent, one she could recognize anywhere. Under the phantasmagorical aroma of rotting flesh came the scent of her sister’s perfume. It was crude; a macabre imitation of such a beautiful fragrance, and she knew of only one person who would use this for his own nefarious purposes: Fieran. This whole quest was a trap. She reasoned that whoever had delivered the quest to Sergeant Morris must have led in setting the fires and looting the village, all the while aiding her nemesis in his mad pursuit of world domination. And now, I had foolishly walked into the belly of the beast, under the naïve and disgustingly hopeful belief that I could finally send this vile hell spawn to whence he came.

       As Xune observed the ground and walls of the cave for traps and progressed through the shadows, she allowed her mind to wander to her beloved elder sister, whose name was Aza. Xune had been Aza’s closest friend and they shared everything together. They would spend their time in the flower fields of their village, lying side-by-side and sharing secret wishes. After a while they would collect wildflowers and waterlilies, for Aza was aspiring to become a perfume merchant and liked to experiment with different flowers. Or they would play in the lake and try to catch the fireflies and lacewings that flew above their heads. The different ruffians and criminals which roamed the streets of our village berated us for daring to dream of finding our place in the sun, called us mad, and scoffed and snickered when we tried to sell her wares in town, and even the surrounding villages did not take us seriously. And so, Aza walked the three leagues into the nearest city, perhaps to make just one sale, hopefully only a steppingstone to our place in the sun. Mercifully, astoundingly, she made ten. When she finally came back, she ran into town telling them all how wrong they had been, how wonderful some of the people were. The sights, the sounds, the smells, and so many different faces! But both Aza and Xune had lived very sheltered lives and were not aware of the extent of unkindness others can produce, and the ruffians stole her money. And everyone laughed and watched as she ran home to Xune, crying. Nothing Xune said could make the pain feel better. Xune, angered immensely by this blatant injustice and disregard for honor, ran down to the pub, tying her hair up in a ribbon as she streamed down the hill. Although she was much younger than her beloved sister, she had a mouth on her, and she was not afraid to use it. She had always been very outspoken compared to Aza, and nothing stopped her from speaking her piece to their parents when she wanted to go outside and play. The world is an indecently dangerous place, entirely to a fault, and not all children have the comfort of protection where their parents are concerned. But these dark elves were different. They doted on their children and got them whatever they could, whenever they could, but a dark elf’s financial autonomy was sparse to nonexistent, and most were not willing to work for riches. After the Gloaming, humanity rose out of the ashes stronger than all the others and seized the economy for themselves. Repurposing everything, the dark elf and Tiefling races were shunned as demons, due to deals and debts alike made by our ancestors. So, their penance is starvation, poverty, and cruelty. Thus, no one travels outward of their own villages anymore, except to steal and pillage. Xune recalled the conversation she had had with Aza after she had returned home, with all her earnings in tow. Her sister had told her of all the beautiful sights she had seen, all the exciting things she had heard, all of the delicious food she had smelled, and all of the different faces she had seen! Xune drank in everything through her shining eyes, rapt with wonder. But what Xune loved the most was Aza’s description of Nothing, not even their parents’ sudden death at the cruel hands of a plague, could tear them apart. Aza cared for Xune, as she was a delicate and harmless beauty, destined for kindness and love. A strange thing, this, for most dark elves are evil and love human bloodshed. Though Aza was one of these, she loved her younger sister more than anything and would protect her from the evils of their home.

      On the eve of Aza’s sixteenth birthday, the illusion of contentment shattered. A demon invasion swept through their village as the clouds darkened the sky and wept tears of blood. The demons brutally raped the women and savagely murdered the men. Xune and Aza hid in the cellar of their little house, but it was not enough. The head demon, Fieran, smelled Aza’s perfume; one she had created herself and had been wearing at her birthday gathering. He tore Aza from Xune’s arms and threw her to the other demons as Xune screamed for her doomed sister. But Fieran held her arms and forced her to watch as the demons brutally raped Aza. Aza’s screams stopped only when the third demon had finished his disgusting deed, and then the fourth moved in on her, then the fifth, but Aza had given up. She was alive, but she could no longer move. And when the last demon finished, ending with a long, satisfied grunt, Fieran got up and slashed her throat. Xune could not move or breathe. All she could do was stare into the lifeless eyes of her sister. She could hear Fieran’s boots crunching the autumn leaves as he slowly walked back to her. Then he said something that would torment her until the day she died. “I love you with all my heart. You are mine, and you always will be.” He kidnapped her and kept her in his palace as a slave, claiming it was his right to take whoever he chose as a bride. And he chose her. For two years, Xune did not talk or move. Fieran defiled and beat her daily, but it was as if all the life had bled from the center of her being. In the third year, she started to walk through the palace halls and eventually to the desolate courtyard where the whispers of madness grew softer, where the perennial darkness that was her existence did not seem so suffocating. She was the perfect picture of insanity, with a gaping mouth and vacant eyes, drifting gracefully through the black and barren enclosure. Bedecked in a luminescent white dress, glistening in the brilliant moonlight, she resembled a poignant apparition, fated to wallow in her profound misery forevermore.

         As she began to drift back to the looming palace, a man who did not look as though he was one of Fieran’s followers approached her. He whispered urgently that he had a way out. Something reawakened in Xune, some unknown purpose told her to get out of there. She whispered to him, in a voice quiet and haunting, that there was something she needed to do first. Then she denied Fieran, told him she had finally escaped his grasp, and vanished with her new protector, Sergeant Morris. He gently guided her back into the light, understanding that it was difficult after such a deplorable measure of darkness. He explained over time that he witnessed the treachery that took place in her village. In fact, he had been there only because he and his daughter were on a hunting trip in the forest surrounding the small cluster of villages. Though the moon shone unnaturally bright in those hours of darkness, nothing radiated more brilliantly than the chaotic blaze that appeared to have destroyed the better part of five villages, all in the vicinity of the dark elves’ territory. He commanded his daughter to flee back to their campgrounds. There were about fifteen soldiers in his command that anticipated their return from the hunt. As her cloak billowed out of sight, Sergeant Morris charged headfirst into the massacre, and began to purge the demons for the destruction and pain they had created. Steel tore through sinewy flesh and powerful thew until the demon’s blood flowed heavily down his armor. He paused for but a moment when the remaining demons fled from his sight. The continuous screams pierced the night as he attempted to locate the source. He approached the town square and felt like a part of his soul died at the sight that met him. A girl, no more than sixteen years of age, lay broken and dying, defiled repeatedly by the Tainted. He recognized the insignia burned into their backs. As a horde of demons that were known for their sacrilegious ravages on the unprepared and innocent, they would stop at nothing to bring eternal darkness and despair to the world. Sergeant Morris dimly acknowledged that it was not the young girl who was screaming, but a child that could only be her sister. She was being restrained and forced to watch the defilement by a tall handsome creature that looked like a man, but Morris was not fooled. He was too inhumanly beautiful to be anything but the highest-ranking demon of this order. He tried to move his legs, but it was like they were made of stone. He could do nothing. He could not save them. All he would do until it was over was watch in abject terror as the head demon let go of her, walked over to her sister, and mercilessly slashed her throat. She choked and gurgled on her own blood until she stopped moving. She was dragged away from the town square and the small, helpless child lay motionless in the charred grass. Morris watched the foul thing stride toward her, wincing each time the leaves and grass crunched under his fine dragon scale boots. He whispered something passionately and seductively into her ear, the words “love” and “mine” barely audible over the crackling flames. He picked her up, cradling her like an infant and walked off with a loving expression in his bloodred eyes. As soon as he was out of earshot, Morris could hold back no longer. He doubled over, violently emptying the contents of his stomach. He continued to dry heave long after there was nothing left inside. Then he began to sob, collapsing against a burnt wooden post. He lamented for the souls of both girls, overcome with immense, uncontrollable guilt; he stood there and did nothing. He would have fought until his very last breath to defend them, no matter what their race. Therefore, he did not understand what could have kept him rooted in place. Suddenly, he realized what it was. He had been watching his worst fear unravel before his eyes. His beloved family was extremely precious to him, and he had always needed to hide and control his overwhelming fear of his daughter befalling a similar fate.

      Sergeant Morris stumbled to his feet, sprinting as fast as his legs would take him. He continuously prayed that whatever God or Goddess who inhabited the sky and earth was keeping her safe. He raced down the hillside, his hopes of finding her alive rising with the morning sun. He envisioned her sitting by the fire, while the soldiers assured her of his safe return. Perhaps a few lighthearted jokes to ease the tension and fear. He finally reached his destination, and his mind went blank. His heart changed from a vibrant flame to a brittle chunk of dead coal. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes. His daughter was dead. Her clothes ripped from her lifeless corpse, limbs bent at odd angles and an expressionless stare that would give him night terrors for the rest of his life. His soldiers were nowhere in sight. What made him fall to his knees and release a bellow of pure anguish was the organs spilling out of his poor daughter’s body and onto the ground. Morris fell to his knees again, crawling over to her and attempting to place her organs back inside her broken carcass.
      When it did not work, he got up and walked briskly to the river, as if driven by some desperate purpose. He closed his eyes, more tears finding their way down his face. He then threw himself in the river, craving the sweet embrace of death, when his head hit a boulder and, losing consciousness, he knew he was off to see his daughter again. Three months later, he awoke in his bed with his loving wife sitting beside him. She tearfully thanked the spirits for granting her wish. Distraught and driven mad with uncontrollable rage, he bolted upright and began to scream for the sentries. He commanded them to lower the portcullis, bar access to the ships and allow no one in or out of the city whilst the soldiers that raped and butchered his daughter walked free. And since Morris was a good friend of the king, due to his effortless service and loyalty, no one was brave enough to stop him. Even the city watch turned a blind, fearful eye. They had seen what horrors await these filthy perpetrators, 1,000 times over. But they were always too late to stop what happened. Or just completely indifferent. Nevertheless, they simply consigned themselves to inaction, and let these tragic
        Fortunately, the search was successful very quickly, for the merchants peddling their wares needed the city to be open to their suppliers immediately. The merchants’ apprentices were extremely skilled at hiding in the shadows and gathering information about their masters’ rivals and the goods they sold. The apprentices, following the merchants’ instructions, focused their skills on finding the murderous traitors. When they were finally discovered, it was noted for Morris’ sake that they were living comfortably in a famous inn very close to the shoreline, but it took the better part of a league to see its rosy, golden lights shimmer and pour forth from the windows. When the general, who was a lifelong friend, made an inquiry to the innkeeper, his eyes grew fearful, and he gave the general the key to their room. He spoke to him in a terrified whisper, informing him of their rowdy and raucous yelling, screaming, drinking, and general revelry at all hours of night and day. He spoke of how they’d bragged with each other about… A girl that they had robbed. In fact, he suspected from the beginning that the money they’d paid her was not rightfully theirs. The general had heard enough. He stormed the in and captured three, the rest scattered like vermin.  It took the better part of a fortnight for the soldiers to round them all up and throw them at Morris’ feet. Their foul crimes did not go unpunished. He keeps what is left of them alive to this day, using a particularly gruesome potion purchased from a dark sorcerer to increase sensitivity to pain, in addition to using whatever rot accumulated to increase the probability of survival. Such a complex concoction required many ingredients and strengthening spells, which was something not even Sergeant Morris could initially afford. With his order to cut off all trade, and people starving in the streets, the townsfolk began to whisper, each question falling quietly around his damaged psyche like autumn leaves in fragrant air. How on Sune’s golden sun was he able to justify this? They never knew what happened, nor did they bother concerning themselves with the sickening details. In fact, they soon forgot there was ever a reason. But as soon as the townsfolk reached the palace, their questions fell silent. No one dared utter a word.  He’d ordered them chained along the walls of the place, bound to wooden poles, their guts falling from their stomachs as a reminder to whichever guard or soldier finds it acceptable to do as they wish without fear of repercussion. Sergeant Morris explained all this to Xune, and it restored some of the life in her eyes. She was not alone in her trauma and grief. Morris swore to her that he would always protect her, guide her from darkness when she could not see the light on her own anymore. It worked for a long while, that is, until they both began to nurse the bottle at the tavern.
       Xune forced her mind to retreat from the past and attempted to refocus her vision. This was no small feat, however, for the Elixir of Sight she had applied with Surya was fading away. Suddenly, what felt like the hilt of a sword struck the back of her head. Eyes streaming and head searing with pain, Xune tried to focus her vision again in the growing darkness. She could guess who it was, but before she could curse his name, he kicked her in the face. She immediately fell unconscious, and the darkness consumed her whole as Fieran dragged her deeper into the abyss.

Chapter 4

          Surya rode toward the gate outside the city, screaming for the sentries to find Sergeant Morris. When he came out, sword drawn and clearly prepared for a fight, Surya almost cried in relief.
     “What is wrong, child? Where--,” he began. He stopped cold when he saw that Xune was not there. A strange shiver seemed to pass over him and he began to breathe heavily. “Where is she, Surya?” She had never seen such an expression of violent rage and infinite sorrow, and in that moment, she knew it was directed at her because she had left Xune to deal with the situation alone.
      “Please, Sergeant, she sent me to find you. We were in the caves at the base of Mount Selene, and she said to tell you that Fieran is back, and he has returned for her! Something horrible is going to happen, I know it! We must help her!” Surya’s voice rose to a hysterical pitch as the sergeant’s face turned pale as death. They both ran to their horses and took off at a full gallop. As they passed, Sergeant Morris commanded the sentry at the gate to round up fifty of his best soldiers and send them to the cave. Then they left, kicking up a large cloud of dirt in their haste to find Xune. As Surya rode, she prayed harder than she ever had for Xune’s safety. Sergeant Morris just hoped within the very center of what was left of his broken soul that Fieran would have mercy on her, but the chances of that were sparse to none. She could very well be dead already, he thought, and whichever goddess Surya prostrates herself before must know there is nothing she can do to save her if Fieran brings Xune back to his palace. Nothing.

      Xune started, very suddenly, barely able to move. Keeping her eyes closed, she tried to regain her senses through the haze of pain in her head. She attempted to move her hand to check her scalp for blood and quickly realized it would not be that simple. Her eyes snapped open, and she waited for her eyes to adjust to the sudden light. She was still in the cave, but it was much cleaner and more spacious here. Someone had placed a few torches along the walls, which explained her ability to see now. I suppose that, at least, is good, she thought, still trying to move. Then, suddenly, it dawned on her to look up. Her hands were bound above her head and her body was tied to a long, wooden pole in the middle of the cave. She closed her eyes, beginning to hyperventilate, and when she looked down, she almost lost consciousness again. She was tied to a pole, completely defenseless and fully unclothed. Blood was trickling heavily down her thighs; only then did she start to feel the familiar pain indicating she had been raped. And only then did she begin to weep.
           His voice cut through her sobs, and she shuddered in fear. “Xune, my love, I have finally found you.” She could feel his breath on her neck; he was standing directly behind her. He placed his hands on her waist and nestled his face in her hair. She struggled and fought against her bonds, but it was useless. He stopped caressing her as he smelled her hair. A low growl began to rumble deep in his throat. Walking to her front, he grabbed her by the throat with one hand and roughly gathered her hair in the other. “You have feelings for another, I can smell it on you. YOU BELONG TO ME!” He screamed. Releasing her throat, he backhanded her twice and pulled her hair. Her head snapped back, and she released a long cry of pain. He put his mouth right next to her ear and whispered, “You are MY bride. There is nothing I would not do for you, but if you betray me with this woman…” He smirked at me. “You’ll desperately wish you had not.”
 “You are my  enemy, Fieran,” Xune hissed as he brought his face close to hers. “If you lay a fucking finger on her, I will carve your balls from your body. Something I should have done when you raped and killed my sister!” She slammed her aching head against his cruelly handsome face and black blood began to spurt from his nose. She moaned with renewed pain as the impact made her head feel shattered. Too bad He stumbled back, cursing and pinching the bridge of his nose to stem the flow. When that did not work, he muttered a spell in D’Ariq, and it ceased. He wiped the blood from his face and approached her again.
     "Looks to me like you've been spending too much time around humans. Picked up a few of their half-assed remedies, did you? How ironic considering the fact that"- she giggled hysterically, the situation seemed to be getting more morbidly hilarious as she burst out laughing and screaming -"YOU LOATHE THEM!"
     He cradled her face in his hands. “You will pay for that. I am about to fuck you again so you may call it a lesson learned. But before I do, I would like to show you something that I know you will thank me for.” He turned Xune’s head to the side, and when her vision focused on what was beside them, she began to hyperventilate again. “Allow me to reunite you with your whore of a sister,” he snarled savagely. A deranged smile lit up his face as he relished the expression of horror and despair that Xune made no attempt to hide.
      Aza’s skeleton was bound to a large stone cross. She was almost entirely devoid of flesh, but maggots fell from her eye sockets and her bones were covered with a strange black rot that brought the stench of death back to Xune’s nostrils. There were two obsidian altars in front of the cross, alongside a small table that contained an ancient spell book, several herbs, and a satchel of dark stones. They are obviously preparing a ritual, Xune thought wildly, but what does it entail?
“What is all of this? What are you going to do to me?” Fieran smirked at her again and began to undo his belt buckle. “I want you to be with me. This can never happen as long as you resist me.” He ran his hand lightly across her breast, then reached even lower and put his fingers inside her. She screamed in pain and began to bleed anew. He began moving them in and out and Xune continued to scream. He continued talking as though nothing was happening. “We both know you are in no position to escape from me again. But I am not satisfied with only this. I want you to love me like you loved the whore. So—” he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his growing manhood. Xune lost consciousness from the agonizing pain. He slapped her awake and began to move fast. He spoke between heavy breaths. “My followers are going to cast a ritual that will make you love me—” Pausing his monologue for a few minutes, he finished his brutal attack on Xune with a long, satisfied groan. “As much as you loved your sister.” He kissed her sweaty forehead and pulled out of her. Xune lost consciousness again as he did, spiraling once more into her own internal abyss of madness and despair. As soon as he withdrew, he heard voices calling out her name. He spat a hard curse and grabbed her face in his hand.
      “This is NOT over, and you will see me again.” Fieran fastened his cloak and disappeared into the shadows. Surya and Sergeant Morris barged in as Fieran disappeared. Surya screamed and called out Xune’s name. Sergeant Morris approached the wooden pole and freed her from her ropes. She almost fell to the ground but they both caught her. She was much too weak and hurt to walk, so Sergeant Morris picked her up as gently as he could and took her outside the cave, followed by Surya, who was sobbing hysterically. Together, the trio made their way back to the city where Xune could be tended to. This time, both Morris and Surya prayed for Xune’s life to whatever god or goddess that might have been listening, for they knew that she had dealt enough with the devil.

Chapter 4
      Six months later, Xune had recovered sufficiently from her physical wounds. The damage was more extensive than the alchemist could deal with alone, so Surya sent for her friend Andraste, who was also a cleric, to assist him. However, no matter how much her health had progressed, she was still quite motionless and continuously stared off into the empty nothingness. Surya worried that Xune’s mind was slipping away. Throughout the half-year of her recovery, Surya never left her side. She fed her, bathed her, and read to her. She even slept in the same bed for fear of someone attacking her companion again. Xune would move occasionally, touching Surya’s face or arm, as if checking that she was still there. Other than that, she did not speak to or even look at Surya. When Xune fell into the clutches of her nightmares, she would murmur a name that Surya did not recognize. Aza. Each night, Surya heard the name fall from Xune’s lips and each time, Surya could feel the desperation and pain this name caused. Countless times had Surya implored Sergeant Morris to tell her who it was that attacked her, this faceless wraith of sinister evil that had robbed Xune of her senses. He vehemently refused to tell her, saying that it was Xune’s place to tell her, not his. One night, everything changed. Xune awoke, screaming and crying and tearing at her own flesh. Surya held her arms down and tearfully insisted that everything would be okay. Xune threw her off, bolted across the room and unsheathed her blade. She held it up to her heart, intending to stain the earth with her own lifeblood. Surya calmly withdrew the dagger from Xune’s hand and held her tightly. Xune began to wail loudly, blaming herself for everything. When her sobs became hiccups, she laid on the bed again and resumed staring at the ceiling, eyes completely devoid of emotion. Surya finally snapped. She approached Sergeant Morris with a murderous look in her eye. She walked directly up to the front of the tavern and held Xune’s dagger to his throat, telling him that if he did not tell her everything that instant, she would repaint the tavern walls with his blood. Morris seemed to be expecting this outburst and resigned to informing Surya of the tragic abuse and torture that befell Xune and her sister.

      During the course of his tale, Surya had sheathed the dagger in her belt. By the end, her hand was obviously itching to reach for the ornate hilt. It was as if it was all she could to prevent herself from slicing his throat. Finally, he grew so uncomfortable with that ominous glint in her eye and realized that she wouldn’t relent until he said what she was waiting for. He sighed heavily, resigning to the fact that he was most likely about to be slaughtered. He looked her full in the face and said, “Why are you glaring at me?”
      In the blink of an eye, Surya pinned the sergeant’s vulnerable throat under the bloodred blade. She yanked his head back, gripping his hair so ferociously, he dared not move lest the blade slip and cut his skin. His breath came in short, ragged wheezes emanating from somewhere around his middle. She fixed her eyes to his, seeping a burning disappointment and hate into the latter’s. His skin had turned deathly white, and she saw his life flash before his eyes. Then she began to speak in a deadly whisper that he had no trouble discerning over the din of the tavern. It was as if she had captured his soul, focusing his attention on nothing but her ominous pronouncement.
      “Pay attention, you vile coward. No longer will you make excuses for the tragedy that befell your daughter. You discovered her only after Xune had been traumatized brutally and taken. You just sat there and watched. One could almost argue you’re as bad as Fyren,” she sneered. His eyes flashed with anger, and he began to speak, but Surya moved the blade from his throat to his lips.
      “Keep your mouth shut, or I start with your tongue”, she snarled. “You could have done something. Anything. Instead, you left a sweet and innocent little girl whose only crime was loving and believing in her sister. You WILL find a way to make this up to Xune, and you’ll come up with it yourself. You are not to leave her side. You will watch over her like you should have done so many years ago!!! If I find you idling here again, I will kill you.” She sliced the edge of the blade against his face, leaving a long line of trickling scarlet across his cheek. “But not before I torture you. Maybe I’ll keep you around as a pet husk of flesh, like your little toys in front of the palace. Do not fail me, and don’t you dare fail Xune again!”
      By this point, every eye in the tavern was on them. No one batted an eye or moved a muscle for fear of incurring her wrath. She strode quickly toward the door, and the tavern keeper looked as if he wanted to stop her, but apparently thought better of it, stepping smartly to the side. Looking out the window, he could see her storming toward her goddess’ temple. Morris continued to sit there, numb to everything but his pain. Paying no heed to time, or relief, he merely sat on his stool, pain coursing through his veins like burning acid. The tavernkeeper, who had been due at home four hours earlier, finally relinquished his excessive screaming match with empty air, and instead of calling the guards, locked up for the night with Morris still inside, choosing to leave the man with his demons instead of getting involved. He only hoped he would not be there in the morning when businesses opened. Truth be told, we were once friends, the tavernkeeper thought to himself as he walked home in a humid, heavy wind. But he’s been driven mad by the past, with no hope of reconciliation. All the townsfolk are afraid of what Morris might do next. And no one has balls enough to depose him.
The tavernkeeper sighed heavily to himself. Elementally, what little conscience remained in his dark heart twinged with guilt, but not nearly enough to assuage what phantasmagorical deed he had been complicit in. No matter, he thought. I’ve gotten away with it this long. No one has any reason to suspect me. And I won’t be staying long enough for anyone to discover the truth.