Searing, scalding, unbelievable /pain/.

 There was no place he could send his mind to escape it. The sensation surrounded him, almost lighting him up from the inside out, threatening to burn him away to ashes. After the initial shock of the ordeal, the cultist found the feeling to be strangely welcome. Although the torment continued, it no longer had the numbing affect it had in the beginning. Battling with non-existence for so long, he had been worried that feeling /anything/ this strongly had become impossible. Pain, pleasure, all the simple expressions and actions involved with living seemed alien and beyond his reach. There had been a hollowness within him that refused to ignite with his old fire and ego; he could feel it now, growing stronger with every minute. Sydney was in /agony/, but he was /alive/. Adrenaline, or the memory of adrenaline, surged through him in a heady rush. It was strangely easy to detach, to be both writhing in the madwoman's hands and still have the ability to analyze the situation, to find a weakness and act upon it. He reached for the well of power he had been hoarding, forging it into a bolt which pierced her leathery tail. The goddess screamed in pain and looked behind her to see the cause. Her spell collapsed as she was distracted. Taking advantage of her inattention he kicked sharply from his elevated position and caught her sharply in the ribs. The grip on his arms loosened but not enough to slip free.

//Damnit, LET GO! //

// Sydney are you…? //

// Keep Away, Ashley! // The blonde had no energy to spare on mincing words, shoving the worried presence out of harm's way before the woman could sense him. He threw another spear of fire, hoping to distract her again. Müllencamp didn't go for the bait a second time. Her milky eyes blinked at him, thoughts obviously struggling to the surface. She took abrupt action. The claws clamped around each arm squeezed sharply, easily crushing muscle and bone. The cultist screamed again as his goddess calmly tore off his right arm.

*************************

Pei flinched in mid-swing as another agonizing scream echoed around the smoky room. Her momentary inattention earned her a scratch. A skeletal hand darted past her guard to rake her face. With a snarl she brought the blade up to cleave the dehydrated head from the corpse's shoulders. The litch collapsed with a moan, dissolving into dust and dark mist. She frowned.

// There goes one more holy ancestor who won't have to be reburied when all of this is over… I knew it would be bad… but this is disgusting. At least cleaning up will be easier than expected. Provided the buildings are still standing. //

Their corner of the temple had taken a beating already, and she was well aware that whatever It was, it was only just getting started. The forest woman stared through the demolished section of wall and hissed at the sight of the phantoms emerging from the woods. They were standing at the apparent center of a magical war zone, and every unidentifiable ghoul, monster and feral within a thousand miles was showing up. She cut cleanly through a spectral opponent who came too close brushing the residual clinging mist from her face as it dissolved. Behind her Liet was apparently alternating between picking off their larger opponents and swearing at Ash-Li, his ancestors, his gods, and anything that tried to ooze, tear or claw at his beloved suit.

"Stay DEAD, Damn you!"

She had to give him credit. The assassin had already slain one dragon, and would probably have to take on a second one before long. He had rather earned the right to swear like a dock worker if he wanted. The winged creature had plainly been dead for some time; its hide was hollow and stretched as tight as drum-skin over the massive bones. Unable to do more than gape as the ancient beast tore away most of the wall, she had had a clear view of the way her friend had angrily shot out both of the monster's sulfurous eyes. A third shot managed to shatter the bony cranium, and the massive lizard had dissolved in the same manner as all their victims. The priests continued to chant, sometimes together and sometimes in turns; maintaining the wards that protected their little island of floor from the odd warping changes affecting the rest of the land around them. Pei watched the ornamental trees on the lawn suddenly shrivel and twist into nightmarish shapes. The grass withered and blurred into strange scuttling animals.

"Look out for the rats!" Liet looked up at her warning and swore again, crushing one that came too close with the heel of his shoe.

"I HATE RATS!"

As topsy-turvy as the world had become, she tried to check on her third companion as often as she could spare. His hoarse screams had died down to a sobbing sort of whimper. The forest woman glanced back to see the man was no longer thrashing about but was looking very pale. His eyes were wide open, although whether he was aware of their problems or not was impossible to judge. Around them the Dark swirled and sloshed like the sea in a storm, and he clenched his teeth fighting the forces that threatened to pull him apart.

// Hang on… we all just have to hang on… //

Snarling her frustrations at the world at large, she brought her sword to the ready and grinned at the new set of challengers who were crawling, floating and flying towards her. The snowflies were swarming; a virtual blizzard of ecstatic little winged insects surrounded the mountain peak.

// Somehow… if I survive this… I don't think living in a city would be so very bad… //

Behind her was a muted, "Die Hell Bitch!" causing her to laugh out loud.

// If /we/ survive… then maybe… //

*************************

Energy was coming in form somewhere, a steady trickle that kept him from slipping entirely into unconsciousness. Sydney fought his way back to himself with grim determination, forcing past the pain to register what his eyes were showing him. His stomach turned violently as the cheerfully blood-splattered face of the goddess swam into view. She was playfully crunching through the remains of his elbow. For a moment he almost laughed at the strangeness of it. It was his arm; logically he could stare at the object she was eating, and recognize the features, the sleeve, and the fingers. Emotionally, he found that he couldn't quite connect. It was too bizarre.

// …my… arm…? // Müllencamp had forgotten about him, letting him dangle like a broken toy as she nibbled her snack. The prophet looked down and gagged again at the unnatural empty space where his arm should have been. Had he been a real man, or alive in any conventional fashion, the wound might have been fatal. By effort of will alone he slowly turned his head to inspect his remaining limb. Still trapped in the monstrous fist, it was the twin to the angry aching in his torn shoulder. The damage was severe, making the arm and hand look almost like a broken marionette's. He smiled in dizzy bemusement. There was remarkably little blood, but then what was the use of blood in a place like this. Blood, body, even the withered grass below, it was nothing but a trick of the mind.

// The damage… the injury… is all in your mind… // This time he did laugh, the strange bitter chuckle startled his captor and caused her to lift him up for inspection. Ignoring her for the moment, he closed his eyes using the distant Riskbreaker as a point of reference to pull himself together. For the first time since his introduction to the Shadows, he truly comprehended their nature.

// Every thing she taught me… I thought I understood… but really, that was only the beginning… //

He opened his eyes to smile at the goddess and the shattered flesh attaching arm to shoulder melted away. Free, he fell bonelessly to the misty ground and rolled to his feet. His own reservoir of power was nearly depleted, but it was more than enough to bend reality. Finest Damascus clenched experimentally against the cold surface beneath him, claws cutting easily through the chilly vapors. Inspecting his replacement limbs he laughed again and wondered that he wasn't still a little mad himself. Suddenly it occurred to him how annoying the mist was, blinding him, clinging to him. The cultist spoke a word and watched the white fog shrivel and die. Müllencamp looked up from her meal in confusion.

// Everything… everything is nothing but an extension of someone's mind… the stronger the mind, the wider the scope… This whole place, it was created by her. Was controlled by her… but now there are only two of us… And I'll be damned if I will be out-thought by a raving lunatic. // Sydney clenched his fists in anger. The memory of pain was still fresh in his mind. He was angry. He /wanted/ to lash out… and a target was readily available.

" Care to try that again? " Grinning like a devil, he charged.

*************************

It was pouring, water coming out of the sky in a near constant deluge to hammer the tops of the metal passenger cars like kettle drums. The sound was almost enough to make Valor scream. He hunkered down next to the window of his nearly empty car and tucked his knees defensively against his chest. The rhythm of the pounding water was relentless, adding to his already considerable anxiety.

// Make it stop… make it stop… makeitstop! // The bard clamped his hands over his ears and whimpered. It wasn't ordinary rain, the stormy air felt charged.

"It's alright, Valor…" The quiet voice almost made the teen jump out of his skin. His construct had returned and silently resumed his seat. Dark eyes flickered out the window, silently gauging something more than the flow of water. The construct was soaking wet, his quick sprint to the snack car and back had been enough to slick the glossy hair flat against his skull. Wordlessly he unscrewed the cap to one of the water bottles and did the same to a small flask of rum. Pouring equal measures of both into a plastic cup, he pressed it into unwilling hands. "Drink, it will help."

"What's happening…?"

"It's the storm."

"Make it stop… please… it hurts…" Grimacing at the taste of the cheap booze, the shaking boy downed the shot before crumpling the empty container flat and dropping it.

"Shhhh." Strong arms pulled him out of his huddle and across the seat into the sheltering warmth of a damp shoulder. Somehow the sound didn't seem as oppressive when tucked against the demon's chest. Muted and fading in to a whisper, the torrent continued as the train made its way through the small towns, heading north towards New Jersey. Finally able to focus enough to think properly, the bard vaguely worried that there would be flooding or some other potential trouble because of the unnatural storm.

"Do you think…"

"Shhhh, don't worry about it now."

"But the storm…"

"I know." The soft voice was worried. Az was looking out the window again. Curious, the young mage poked gently at the shields wrapped around him, startled at their strength.

"The storm… what does it mean…? You know don't you…"

Black eyes peered down at him with gentle concern. "It means /change/, Valor… Something is changing… something big."

"… I wonder if Mason is alright…"

"He's probably fine."

*************************

There was mist coming up through the floorboards. Liet looked down in alarm at the uncanny display of magic. Something was welling up from underneath, pushing up, pushing /out/. He glanced over at the guardian and blinked again. The straining man was definitely glowing. Black fire played tricks on his eyes as it burned merrily along the muscled arms, dancing down the chains to intermingle with the energy pooling on the floor. The various beasts that had been attacking them steadily for the past hour were pulling back into the gloom, suddenly fearful of their goal. Holstering the riffle, the assassin wondered if maybe they knew something he didn't.

"Um, people… Ash-Li is on fire… is this a good sign or a bad one?"

"What?!" Pei turned from scanning the room to look down with a start. Whatever was happening, it was centering solidly around the center of their circle. "Oh… crap…" She leaned over and shook on of the priest sharply, breaking his concentration. The old man blinked as he lost his place in the mantra, coming back to himself with obvious effort. "You, old one… I think something's changed…" Seeing the old monk look around in alarm, Liet went ahead and copied the maneuver on their remaining priest.

"This looks bad." He crouched next to the bed and risked the magical fire to gently shake his comatose friend. "Oi, Ash… you there…?" The guardian's eyes flew open at the touch but when his lips moved there was no sound. "What…? You are on /fire/… What. Do. We. Do….?"

The younger man sucked a breath of air through clenched teeth, obviously straining against something. His brown eyes were almost completely dilated when he opened them again, fixing Liet with an uncanny stare. "… rnnnn…"

"What?"

Pei leaned closer, trying to help decipher the garbled command. Ashley focused and forced the words to come out normally in spite of uncooperative muscles.

"RUN, you idiots!"

Not needing to be told twice, the forest-woman hauled one of the old priests over her shoulder and signaled the assassin to do the same. They sprinted to the tree line at record breaking speed, barreling over several slower-moving corpses along the way. The snowflies were almost thick enough to walk on, making everything into a ghostly sea of shifting white. Luckily, most of the creatures summoned by the Dark were paralyzed, transfixed by what was taking place in the remains of the temple. Liet risked one look back as they reached the top of the stairs and began their decent. Even through the choking clouds of moths he saw the roof explode off the ancient building in perfect clarity. A pillar of black fire was reaching heavenwards in a volcanic spout of destruction. The ground beneath their feet gave a foreboding rumble, promising more to come.

"Holy shit." Ignoring the querulous demands for explanation from his passenger, the gunman dove down the stairs no longer caring if he could see the path or not.

"Liet?!" A woman's panicked voice cut through the general sounds of disaster and grinning in the face of death he changed course to keep up with her.

"Just Run you Crazy Witch!"

"Don't call me a witch!"

"Now is not the time to argue!"

*************************

To say it was an even match would have been stretching the truth. Sydney's initial assumptions held one fatal flaw. Inside the Shadows there was little the goddess could do to harm /him/, but there was nothing to say she couldn't harm the /Shadows/. Adaptability had always been one of the woman's strongest assets. Madness had done nothing to change that.

The cultist cursed as he shifted out of the way of another staggering blast. Where he had been standing was neither scorched earth nor flames, but rather a misshapen hole. The battle zone now resembled nothing so much as a mad golfer's playground. It was disconcerting to be reminded of how small their world really was. Müllencamp's entire kingdom, the seemingly infinite possibility contained within, was nothing compared to the Sea of Chaos in which it precariously floated.

// Strange, I knew that this place was forged from a special sort of chaos… but I never realized… just how delicate the balance was. I never had to, she always sort of took care of that for us… // He dodged again only to land too close to one of the sinkholes now littering the landscape. The ground beneath his feet shifted unpleasantly and as he looked he could see small fragments and streamers of mist breaking off from the shattered edges to be sucked into the vortex below. The Sea was reclaiming its own.

// At this rate there'll be nothing left… What is she /thinking/? // Diving back towards his enraged adversary he managed to catch the massive wrists before she could unleash another wave of destructive force, forcing her aim away from the already compromised floor. He winced as she opened up a wide swath of nothingness in the sky above them. With every hit the landscape absorbed, the Dark shrieked like a living thing.

// Anchors, this place is based on the principle of anchors… If the Lady is the primary anchor… keeping us from sliding into the Sea… then Ashley is the other… like two people playing tug-of-war…so the more the Dark flees from her… the more it flows… to him? // He could no longer reach his lover with his mind. The swirling maddened energies of the landscape blocked all but the most primal contact. The blonde could /feel/ the Riskbreaker, could feel the incredible forces pulling on the man. There was no alternative; the knight would just have to hold up on his own a little longer. Two of the craters on his left suddenly collapsed into one another, and the ground shifted and shuddered as a new vortex formed. The area around the fissure began to crumble at greater speed. He blinked as the colors of the world around him seemed to melt and bleed into the hole. Time took on an unsteady rhythm as it too was bent towards the fissure.

// This has to stop… but how does one stop a goddess…?! //

He threw himself away from the worst of the distortion and used his claws to give him added grip as he climbed out of range of the collapsing zone. Sydney flicked a quick fire spell at the distracted crone. More sparkle than heat, it served to keep her attention focused on him and not necessarily on ripping up the landscape. Unstable as she was there was no telling if she was even aware of the danger they were in. Thankfully she responded to the bait and slithered away from harm.

//… probably the same way you stop anything else… Hog tie it and beat it in the head until it passes out… //

The mad woman moved with startling speed sometimes, as if anger helped her remember some small portion of her old skill. Her clawed hands seemed to almost stretch even longer as she came within sudden striking-distance, forcing him to raise an arm to block. Bone and metal scraped off each other with an ugly sound.

// /If/ it passes out… //

" Come Lady… I think we must seek higher ground… Your 'redecorating' leaves a little to be desired. " Keeping a weather eye on the rate of decay near the edge, he made a steady retreat. The cultist didn't dare to use magic to use any teleportation spells so close to the rift, there was no telling where he would end up. Müllencamp attempted to hurl another blast of energy. They both watched in alarm as it crossed half the distance between them before slowing and reversing course, sucked into the expanding abyss.

" Well… /now/ what are you going to do… Hmmm? " Her answer was non-verbal, lunging for him with ferocious strength.

*************************

The distant mountain peak had an almost-pretty nimbus around it now. With the initial flare dropping back below the cloud line it was caught and partially hidden by the smoke and clouds of insects, giving it a blurry sort of ultraviolet glow. Salten chortled and produced a small measuring device which he pointed roughly where the temple used to be. The little display warmed from black through the reds and climbed the color spectrum until it pegged roughly ten ticks below the highest setting. Still chortling, he made a careful record in his notebook.

"Only two ticks higher than an hour ago… the boy's got stamina… I'll give him that."

"It's still two hours until midnight."

"You think he will last that long? I'm impressed."

"With the time dilation, it may feel shorter to him…"

"Or longer…"

"Well, aren't you full of cheerful thoughts tonight." The golden-eyed man fumbled in his bag for an incongruous pair of opera-glasses with which to observe the distant phenomena. "This will make a marvelous footnote in my book…"

Methuselah simply snorted, the sound echoing down from his perch atop a convenient pile of boulders. He had discarded his voluminous cloak in favor of freedom of movement. His dark leathery wings were half extended for balance. "It will get worse before it gets better…" Reflected light from the energy flares painted the lenses of his goggles with splashes of livid pink and sun-set orange.

"Marvelous, and me without any recording equipment. The folks back home will /never/ believe this…"

The sparkling peak in the distance continued to slowly tremble, sending tiny landslides of shale and loose paving stones down into the valley below.

*************************

The tremors underfoot were getting worse, and unlike the increasingly erratic attacks of the madwoman they were unavoidable. Sydney felt the tell tale warning shiver of reality just in time to leap clear of a sudden soft spot developing underfoot. Critically instable, there was no longer anywhere he would truly call safe within the crumbling Shadows. He could only pray that the remaining landscape would hold-together long enough to complete one final enchantment. A flash of white in the growing gloom caught his eye.  His tower was faintly visible in the darkness. Its pale color almost burned in comparison the distorted and brooding landscape. Even at the impossible distance, he could easily pick out the missing portions of roof, and a gaping void along one edge of the base where a wall should have been.  Only the tree seemed to be truly standing firm against the increasing pull of the chaos all around them. Bent and shivering as if caught in a gale, the brilliant greens seemed to imply some distant sunlight. The tower was glowing with the mighty oak's reflected light.

// Ashley… //

The limbs bent and waved in painful looking motions as the Dark roiled and shook. Sydney forced himself to look away, not wanting to see if there were any tell-tale cracks in the rugged bark. His Riskbreaker could stand firm against the tide. He had to. Angry hissing reminded him of the task at hand and he carefully gauged the distance between himself and the goddess. If he kept moving fast enough, she didn't have the focus to respond and with a little effort he found he could keep her roughly stationary by deliberately shifting her attention to one side or the other. The cultist's sense of humor, ever detached from any concept of appropriate timing, was more than happy to point out that he was literally running circles around her like a small puppy. Thankfully the majority of his attention was taken up with casting his spells, otherwise the image would have distracted him with laughing.  The mage dove neatly under a swinging arm, placing a carefully scratched mark in the ground as he rolled back to his feet. Seeing her eyes on him again he murmured a word, and suddenly split in two. Each of the Sydney-glamours turned a different direction, confusing the deranged goddess as she tried to follow both at once and ended up coiling around herself instead. She collapsed in a tangled heap and tossed an irritated wave of fire at her attackers. The false-cultist dissolved in a puff of glittery smoke as the real one simply ignored the flickering heat in favor of scratching another symbol. Again and again, he circled the snarling snake-woman distracting her, teasing her, always staying just out of reach of the killing claws as he placed ward after ward in an intricate pattern. He had to work quickly. Given time she would either sense the subtle magic twisting around her, or shift a critical amount and destroy one of the fragile marks.

// Then again this entire area could collapse into another sink-hole, and all of this will have been a pointless exercise… //

One of the magic-circle's edges was now being encroached on by the time-distortions that seemed to precede an imminent collapse. Between one staggered foot fall and the next, seconds seemed to crush painfully close to one another then suddenly spread out into an uncanny freeze-frame.  Luckily the effect was just as disorienting for both of them. Sydney tripped over himself as he fell free of the altered zone, but trapped in the middle, the goddesses movements seemed to flow at a snail's pace. He reached over and scratched the last ward into the dust. The wards ignited with satisfying intensity and the cultist raised his eyebrows in amazement at the lines of energy knit together without a hitch. Now frozen in place, Müllencamp whimpered softly as she struggled where she lay. Stepping carefully as he shifted from one time zone to another the cultist navigated through the rune-covered area to crouch by her side.

" I'm sorry, Lady… I wish there could have been another way… "

// But she is the key, the center pivot on which the Shadow balance… Killing her would mean an end to everything… wouldn't it? //

The world seemed more stable now that her power was harnessed, but he couldn't guess how long the spell would last.

// It feels like the calm before the storm… // He listened to the still vibrating Dark, trying to get a sense of what needed to happen. Whatever it was trying to say, the message was incoherent.

"…My Lady…?" The cultist hesitantly reached out to touch one of the boney shoulders. She was face-down into the dead ground, half curled as if in pain. "Müllencamp, /please/… tell me what I must do… I don't /know/… I wasn't ever taught what to do…"

"Sssssssssssssssyyddoooooooonneeeeeeeeey…?"

" I'm so sorry… " It was too much to watch her as she weakly fumbled. Now that the immediate threat of her had passed, he had the time to truly realize the magnitude of the crime he had just committed. Sydney was reminded of the collection of butterflies in his father's study. Pinned cruelly to the white mats even while they still lived, there had been some ghost of their final suffering that he could sense even as a child. He had always had an affinity for the dying, and the dead.

"Please… you can't die… I need you… I can't do this without you…" Forgetting their battle, forgetting the disintegrating world beyond the edges of his spell, forgetting even the unyielding cold metal that had replaced his human arms, he curled himself over the shattered woman; her shoulders were carefully encircled by his clawed hands as he leaned over to embrace her. Not knowing how to stop himself he pressed his face into the worn rood-tattoo on her back and wept like the child he had once been.  There was no going back to that time. The innocent joy he had felt to discover he had been loved, abandoned and then loved anew, it had sustained him through the harshest trials of his young life. There has /always/ been Müllencamp. Her smile, her laugh, the very smell of her was the basis of who he /was/, why he existed. There could be no prophet without a prophesy. There could be no priest without a god. There could be no son without a mother.

// Please… mother… tell me how to make this right… // Confused, the goddess twitched uncomfortably. There was no recognition from the stiff form in his arms. The ground trembled again, and another piece of the Shadows slowly crumbled into darkness. The disorienting colors of Chaos were surrounding them now. Island-like in its solitary integrity, Sydney's magic circle was all that sustained them from a plummet into the depths below. Suddenly the drop didn't seem so entirely unwelcome. Dissolution would mean an end to the pain, one way or another.

// At least… We could go together…? // 

// No! //

There was something, something holding him back from the idea. Even as he contemplated the alluring colors he found suddenly he had no real desire to become one with them. A strong tugging sensation like a rope around his chest was asserting itself. The nagging, anxious feeling wouldn't let him go, forcing him to separate himself from Müllencamp's self-destructive emanations. Disoriented, it took him a moment to recognize the sensation, the distant voice trying to call him back. He nearly crumbled again, realizing what he had almost done.

// Ashley? Oh bloody hell… I can't even think straight with her like this… these feelings… which are mine and which are hers…? //

 The mage felt like thin rope stretched between two poles. On the one side was the goddess; on the other was the Riskbreaker. Both were struggling with all their might, trying to hold onto to him while he was reaching his breaking point. Sitting up, he wiped his tears away with the back of one metal hand while resting the other on the blurry outline of the prone woman's Rood. It looked malformed some how, twisted much in the way /she/ had become twisted. He could feel its distorting influence, how it had seeped into her very essence and corrupted all it touched.

// But how did it happen… I don't understand… and how the hell do I /fix/ it… //

*************************

Michael Donnelly pulled his car in the garage just as the freezing rain turned to hail. Another dreary holiday season had come and gone and February seemed to be determined to be the darkest and bleakest ever. The mechanic shivered despite his heavy sweater and coat. The air felt strange for some reason.

// Impossible to say if someone is tinkering with it… but it feels wrong some how… //

He had recognized the two additional cars outside the house as he had pulled in, and the thought of his two eldest children coming to pay a visit added some warmth to the otherwise dark day. Of course the fact that there were only two children now, added a bitter edge to the joy. Michael hesitated to go into the house, pausing to look at a cluttered shelf. A catcher's mitt sat forlornly amidst the random cans and bottles, it was a memento of long summers in the backyard. He could close his eyes and remember the childish laughter and sunshine, the way his son had of frowning in concentration as he learned the basic pattern of catch-and-throw. It was strange that memories of Mason became harder and harder to summon as the boy grew up. Always quiet, always reserved, he seemed to blend into the background of so many family gatherings. As a father the fading memories only stirred up a greater sense of guilt. Had they ever really /talked/ once his son had left for school? Had there been some sign, some hint that there was something wrong? He couldn't remember.

// And then /nothing/… He come home for Christmas, and everything seemed fine… and he went to visit a friend… and the next thing anyone knows we get a letter from California from him saying he's going away for a while… //  He still had the letter, carefully kept out of sight in his desk. His wife couldn't bear to look at it after that first shock. Michael had read it again from time to time, worrying, wondering, but as to where his child was, it was still a mystery.

// I should have… I don't know… I should have felt it… shouldn't I…? He wasn't the sort of boy to just run away from something… And what was there to run from? The school had nothing but glowing things to say about him, he was popular, intelligent. He /seemed/ happy… 'A son that any father could be proud of'… there was no reason for him to disappear. //

He pulled the old glove off the shelf and toyed with it in the gloomy darkness. // No reason at all… //

"… Come home, boy…"

The door to the house opened, momentarily blinding him with a swath of warm yellow light. "Dad?" Kathy paused mid-sentence as she saw the old leather mitt in his hands. He fidgeted guiltily and put it on the hood of the car, but his daughter simply smiled. "Mom wanted to know… when you were coming in…"

"I'll be right there."

*************************

/Pain/.

Burning, corrosive, gut-twisting pain.

It was all there was. It was in his eyes, his ears, and clawing its way down his throat. It was under his skin, inside his bones, and coiled vise-like around his mind. There were seals inside his head, burning brighter than white-hot steel, wreaking havoc with his thoughts as he held them shut. Ashley couldn't even be certain why it was so important that the doors stay closed, all he could remember was that it was his duty to see that they did. He was to stay here, to bar the doors… someone else was to … do /something/… Thoughts dissolved like overexposed photos, their contents bleeding away, irrelevant so long as his goal remained fixed.

// … but Sydney… // Somehow the tattered image lasted long enough to be understandable. His mage was somewhere, not far, on the other side of his barrier. His mage was in trouble. In a titanic feat of strength, he freed some scarce energy to reach past the pain; trying to get a better sense of what was wrong. It was risky, but he had surpassed what he had thought was his limit hours ago, and yet he still existed.

// I won't… I won't let him go… //

With his outsider's perspective on the setting, he felt the subtle shift of power even before his lover did. The goddesses limp fingers flexing slowly against the surface.

// SYDNEY! //

**************************

The shout seemed to come from everywhere, a surreal mix of internal and external voice that shook him loose from his inertia to look about in surprise. The Riskbreaker's voice seemed to act as a trigger for a cascade of events, first of which being the outer three rings of the mage circle dissolving into bursts of static. Turning to check his remaining layers of spell in concern, he completely missed the goddesses' twisted smile. The ground that was now no longer caught up in the spell was blowing away like dry sand, twisting into eddies and whorls as it was sucked into the multi-colored oblivion. Straining across the now wide gulf between his little island and the tower, he watched the entire top floor of the structure crumple and dissolve. Ashley's tree was losing leaves at a steady rate.

// It's over… I've lost… // He shuddered in fear. // I wasn't good enough after all… I couldn't figure out how to make this stop… //

A rustle of dry skin from behind him was his only warning. Müllencamp was heaving herself upright, preparing to lunge. Her scream of anger made his skin crawl. There was nowhere to run, they were too far from the next patch of remaining land to jump, and the small island was barely big enough to hold them both if they sat still. He scrambled back as she moved, bracing one hand into the loose packed edge of their little crumb of land as he brought the other arm up to block her strike.

// I don't want to die! //

Too busy anticipating the decent of her hands; he completely missed the thrashing tail. A massive curve of flesh was trying to re-coil itself as the goddess sought leverage for her dive. The heavy tip of the leathery appendage swung like a ship's boom as she attacked, catching his elbow and sending him sprawling backwards with a cry of alarm. It was too late to dodge, to late to block, he could barely see as the dust clouded his vision. He flailed, trying to stop the coming impact of claws on throat, and felt something crush into his out stretched fingers with meaty force. Sydney's elbow slammed painfully into the ground under the sudden weight and he closed his eyes, prepared for the end.

Strangely, nothing happened.

A rattling sort of sigh escaped the woman sprawled across his chest. The cultist released the breath he had been holding, and cautiously opened his eyes. His pinned position was growing uncomfortable, but the goddess still made no move to shift herself, either to finish her attack, or to pull away. Something felt strange. His right hand was hopelessly trapped, but he couldn't see quite how she had him caught. The left hand was free however and he gave the shoulder resting against his chest a gentle shake.

"…Lady…?" His movements dislodged the dark mane of hair, and something metallic glinted from between the dirty locks. Dazed and curious, the cultist blinked the last of the grit from his eyes, and gently pulled the hair away for a better look. What he had thought were shiny pieces of foil in her hair were actually thin blades, five to be precise. Feeling strangely detached, he watched the pearls of red fluid trickle from the base of the cruel knives, worried at how the dark stain was spreading incongruously across the withered skin. Her chest was pierced at almost the direct center of the intricate design on her back, marring it with jagged bleeding wounds. Alarmed, he vainly fought to free his pinned arm, but something was wrong; the knives piercing the old flesh wiggled slightly and she whimpered faintly in pain. The goddess seemed far more fragile now then she had a moment ago.

// … blood…? // Still not quite acknowledging what he was seeing, he looked morbidly at his free hand, noticing for the first time just how evil-looking his bladed fingers could be. 'Thorns on a Rose,' Müllencamp had once jokingly commented. His armor, his protection, they were not meant to be loveable or gentle. Their purpose was to rend and tear, to /Cut/.

//… oh no… nononononono… this isn't happening… // The Dark shuddered silently, a hush seeming to have fallen over everything. // No, no I didn't mean it… // His breath came in choked hiccups as he slowly tried to sit up. Shifting the woman was a slow ordeal. He was terrified of what he would find once he rolled her over.

"...Müllencamp…? " His work suddenly became easier. The woman in his arms was shrinking, shifting, fading. For a desperate moment he was afraid she would dissolve all together, but instead he witnessed something marginally better. The old grey skin and matted hair were reshaping themselves into smoothly tanned limbs and silky brown tresses. Her leathery tail shrunk steadily and metamorphosed into two shapely legs. Strangely, as the transformation was taking place, the Rood slowly faded from view until it disappeared all together. All that was left was smooth skin, interrupted abruptly where she had been impaled on his hand. He looked down where his right-palm was pressed unnaturally flat against her breastbone. The claws had slipped between her ribs as they had fallen together, dealing out a mortal injury. Sydney didn't know if he was better for her if he left the blades where they were, or tried to pull them out. The goddess was awake but dazed, her now-human eyes not quite focusing as she struggled to breathe.

// I've killed her… I've… // Numb with horror, he felt a childish moan of anguish bubble forth as he settled her on the ground with supreme care.

" Lady, I think… I need to take the blades out… before they do any more harm… " The cultist's voice seemed to register with the woman because she blinked slightly and grimaced in pain. Slender hands curled around his wrist, coaxing him to do what needed to be done. Bracing his other hand against her shoulder, he closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness. His claws came free with an unpleasantly wet sound, causing him to cringe as he felt them scrape bone on the way out. There was more blood now, flowing freely down her stomach and wetting the leg of his pants where she was leaning back against his folded legs.

" Oh Lady, I am so sorry… "

" …stop…saying that… child… " The voice was only a phantom of its previous strength, but still made him smile. She sounded tired, and weak, and still very much like her old self. "… It was… necessary…"

" I don't understand…" Thankfully for his nerves, the wounds were sealing on their own, the blood slowing to a trickle and then stopping all together. Not sure how the offer would be received, he produced a blanket and wrapped it around her shaking shoulders as she sat up. The goddess smiled gently and brushed a tear from his cheek.

" My sweet Sydney… It has been hard on you… hasn't it… Life hasn't treated you very fairly… even I bring you pain in the end… "

"…Lady...?"

" No child… not 'lady'… not anymore…" She closed her ageless eyes a moment, and for the first time he saw line of age and worry forming around her eyes and mouth. The ancient priestess sighed softly and rested her head against his armored shoulder. " I'm so tired, Sydney… so very tired…"

He smiled to keep the tears at bay. " Rest then… I will stay with you. "

" No time. " With a grunt of effort, she sat up straight, her hair cascading in an artfully messy way over the soft cloth. " There is so much you have to know… and you must hurry before all is lost. "

Feeling once again like the child awaiting instruction, he tucked his knees against his chest. " What must we do…? " She shook her head, interrupting his questions.

" Not 'we', Sydney… just you… I think… I won't be able to stay with you until the very end… Or stay very long at all. " She chuckled ruefully at his stricken expression. "… Come now, my darling-one, surely you know already…? You were always the cleverest one… " The blonde shook his head mutely, easily falling back into patterns he had thought he had outgrown centuries ago. Silence was good; silence was /safe/. The dusky woman stroked his face again, feeling his anguish.

" I'm dying, child. "

" …No… "

His stubborn refusal only made her smile again. " Some things are beyond altering, Sydney… even /here/… there must be /some/ kernel of truth under all the lies, remember? If there wasn't, then people would have no need to believe or to dream… "

" But if you die… "

" The Dark will live on… "

" But how…? "

Müllencamp ruffled his hair in a maternal fashion. " Can't you /guess/…? "

*************************

Teo had never seen much sense in pretending to be things he wasn't. It wasn't cowardly to cringe as the ceiling seemed to collapse in reverse, falling upwards and vanishing into the darkness. It seemed down right sensible to crouch as low to the floor as possible, shielding his head with his arms as the walls also began to erode. No debris would enter the circle, the enchantments guaranteed at least that level of safety, but it was still unnerving to watch the solid structures around him vanish into splinters and nothingness. Peeking to his right, he could now look through the gaping wall and see the storm lashed tree as it swayed and groaned. The oak looked like an animal writhing in pain.

// But the tree is also the man… is it not? So if the tree breaks… //

The consequences were not pleasant things to ponder, and he forced his attention elsewhere. A good distance away, looking almost like a speck against the overwhelming shades and colors of chaotic darkness, he could make out a second /tiny/ land mass. If he squinted, he could just make out the figures of the cultist and the monster. They seemed to be struggling in some final battle. He blinked his tired eyes and the wind simply /stopped/. The stillness was uncanny.

// Now what is going on…? //

*************************

" I can't explain how I began to change, or even when… by the time I noticed that I was no longer quite myself… I couldn't remember how to go back… It was strange… So very strange… losing pieces of myself whenever I turned around. " The woman pulled her blanket closer around her. " I doubt that there was anyway of stopping it, once it started… "

" Surely, I could have helped… I could have done /something/… "

" Hush child, I never blamed you…" He grimaced at her scolding tone. Guilt and confusion had twisted into a painful knot under his ribs, but he tried hard not to show it. " Do I look old to you, Sydney? "

" No, Lady… You are beautiful. "

" And you are a silver tongued flatterer, I know you of old, my troublesome one… I am, you know… I /am/ old. " Müllencamp studied her hands in bemusement and then looked around at the final crumbling pieces of her world. " When I first started, I thought I'd like it… immortality… it's what every human dreams of after all. Strange, after all this time, I find myself missing it… the day to day. I never appreciated what I had. "

" What are you saying…? You want to go back? "

"I… I want to leave, Sydney… It's time for me to leave. I think perhaps, I've wanted to leave for a long time… "

The cultist shivered at how calmly she spoke of abandoning her role. " And you want me to stay… "

" Well, who else is there…? "

" But Lady… I /can not/… "

" Says who? It's remarkably easy once you get used to it… "

" But I'm not a god! "

" Neither was I, in the beginning. "

Sensing his terror she looked away again, smiling slightly. " But if you truly do not want the responsibility, I suppose there's nothing to do but give it to Ashley… He'll understand, I'm sure. "

" …Ashley…? No, you can't… the strain of being both Bearer and Anchor would /kill/ him… "

" Once he is anchor, he wouldn't be able to die… However it might make him quite mad… ah well, it's a risk we'll just have to take. " He stared at her in alarm as she flippantly dismissed the likely outcome.

" You… you /mustn't/… "

" My choices are limited child… It must be one of you… "

// But… // The goddess passed a hand over her face in a tired gesture and Sydney found that his arguments were dismissed before they had even fully formed.

" It was always going to be you… "

" I know… I… just don't know if I'm ready… "

" I think you are… You were almost ready years ago… nothing has changed. "

" But I'm not the man I was then… so much has happened… I'm so weak… "

" No, you're not the man you were. You're far more mature… " Müllencamp smiled and captured his nervously fidgeting claws between her hands. " Where is your faith, my son…? "

" Lady… "

" You called me 'mother' once… it's always sad when children grow up… "

He smiled at the teasing jibe. It was sweet nostalgia to speak with her like he had as a child. The times when she could be perfectly serious were so rare. He knew she shared them with him as a sign of affection. " …Mother… what if I fail? "

" You won't. "

" You sound like Ashley… "

The goddess smirked. " You should listen to the man, he may be a stubborn ass, but he has his own brand of wisdom that can not be dismissed… Besides, it takes a remarkable sort of person to survive the ordeals he had overcome… and he did it all for you. Shouldn't you be willing to fight equally well to protect him? "

" I would do anything to protect him. "

" In that case…? "

Sydney bowed his head in acceptance. " Tell me what I must do. "

*************************

// I'm… still… sane…? //

The absence of pain was almost a sort of pain all its own. It was strangely quiet now that the Dark had settled down. At first he had been too tired to notice, but with the lull he had the time to catch his breath and his bearings. He was alone in the wreckage of the small temple. Lifting his head to get a proper look around was simply too much effort. More than anything, he longed to  /sleep/, but that was impossible. Ashley lifted shaking arms to rub the sweat from his face. He could see the night sky through the gaping holes in the roof, but his tired eyes couldn't distinguish the stars from the snowflies. The haze might have been caused by magic; it might have been the first hint of dawn.

// But… Müllencamp… // 

The knight could feel the changes in the Dark, knew as more and more of the energy was pooling around him as opposed to /her/. Quintecent as it had suddenly become, the burden wasn't so great. He took his rest while he could, wondering how long the quiet would last. It didn't feel 'over' yet. There was little hope, his pragmatic side told him, of things ending so calmly. Even if his cultist /had/ managed to get the woman to remember herself, the balance had yet to be restored.

// Don't dawdle whelp… I'm not as young as I used to be. // The Riskbreaker blinked; realizing exactly how strange the words would sound when coming from his eighteen year old lips.

// And /that's/ something else I'll have to tell the mage at some point… Given his reaction to my /last/ drastic change of appearance… maybe dying now really /is/ the way to go… // Ironically, imagining the blonde's floored expression gave him something to look forward to.

// What the hell… If I live that long, I'll have earned a little fun… //

*************************

" So it's… like a dance? "

" It /is/ a dance… and it's also a spell… and a song… and a state of mind… but you'll only understand that later I think. I didn't understand it for years. " The goddess smoothed her new dress and looked around at her handy work. Everything that they would need was in place. There was very little to it, really. The ballroom floor stretched out around them, every detail pulled from Sydney's memories of his ancestral family estate. Walls and ceiling were a little less than solid. The columns and tapestries hovered more like phantoms then wood and cloth around the shadowy impression of a room. Feeling rather dwarfed by her expectations of him, the cultist tried hard not to fidget.

 // Now is not the time to doubt… I have to believe… or I will surely fail… But do I? Where is my faith…? Why do I tremble…? //

There was no turning back now. Even as he hesitated the woman was taking his hands in hers, positioning one of the gauntlets on her arm as the other was held up in the air. Hers was the dominant hold.

" Remember child, I will lead the first round… and Sydney, Do try and pay attention? "

He felt as though he were ten years old, all over again. " Yes, Mother… "  Taking him firmly by the waist, she took her first step, and the waltz was begun.

*************************

The rumbling underfoot was an almost constant vibration as the monks and villagers crouched low behind their wooden barricade. With every tremor higher up the mountain, small cascades and eruptions of rock would ricochet down the hillside to pelt the walls and thatched roofs. Liet ducked instinctively as a fist-sized projectile punched through the thick fibers overhead to thud softly in to the packed-dirt floor.

"This is getting out of hand…" One of the older priests seemed about to agree when another small ballistic screamed down from the sky and lodged itself into one of the storage lofts above their heads. A sack of provisions burst open, spilling its contents thought the gaps in the rough wooden shelf. The steady shower of bran splashed over the assassin's head and began to slip uncomfortably down the back of his shirt. He shook his head with a grumble, sending a shower of grain around the small room.

"Hey!" Pei and Shu Lao grumbled bitterly as they shielded themselves from the unwanted debris. The elderly priest picked one of the grains off of his robe to study it whimsically.

"Well now… that's something… isn't it?"

"What?" Liet paused mid-contortion to give the man a curious look, but seeing nothing comprehensible he returned to trying to shake the prickly rice out of his sleeves.

*************************

" Can you hear the song? "

Sydney closed his eyes as he bent and swayed to the traditional dance. The melody came easily as he listened, threading through his consciousness until he wondered how he hadn't heard it before. He opened his eyes to stare at his mentor in wonder. " Yes, yes I can hear it now…"

The goddess smiled. " Now… look beneath us… can you see the path? "

Glancing at his feet as the woman twirled them around in a loose spin; he studied the ground beneath them. Faint, so faint as to be nearly indecipherable from the illusion they danced in, a silvery white line was etched in the floor. The looping curves faded away quickly on either side, allowing him to only see a few steps worth of where they were headed. " It's difficult to make out… "

" I was afraid of that… you've inherited your father's blindness, you know… at least a little. A single weakness on my otherwise golden child… " Müllencamp chuckled lightly as she twirled them again. " Mark the music my son, /and/ the path… to lose the tempo is to fail, to lose the way… is to fail… "

" …to stop… is to fail? "

" I am afraid so. Once begun, the dance must be finished, or else you will fall, and chaos will take you. You mustn't falter… and above all… you mustn't fear. And /that/ is the hardest thing… "

The cultist smiled. " How can I fear, if you are with me? "

" Ah, but beloved… I can only come with you part of the way… the last dance… you must dance alone. " They glided together in silence as the energies gathered around them, enjoying each other's company one last time as they called the Dark home.

*************************

It was starting again.

Ashley closed his eyes and willed his tired body to go to the limit one last time as the Dark began to surge.

There was a strange sort of division in him now, between the real world around him and the false world inside. Attention split across two realities, he felt like a distant spectator. He couldn't be sure if what he was seeing was the starry sky, or the under-side of a bizarrely transparent ballroom.

His mage and the lady were dancing, holding each other with the tender intimacy of lovers as they progressed through the courtly ritual. It wasn't envy he felt, watching them, watching the stars. Such personal emotions were beyond him in his exhaustion. The knight lay in his shadowy ruin, resisting the insatiable pull of the currents as they tugged him to-and-fro, and simply watched the two dancers in the sky. They looked too beautiful together, less like master and servant than like brother and sister, or even mother and son.

The Riskbreaker couldn't help but yearn for every glimpse he had of the graceful blonde as he dipped in and out of view. Something about the man seemed to burn. Sydney was the torch flame to the goddess' ember. All too soon the swirling Dark obscured them in a hazy fog.

// … Sydney… //

*************************

The pattern alternated from complex to simple, and the mage made careful note of each of the unexpected twists and turns for when his own time came. They rounded the last curve with a lazy sweep and almost without thinking; he shifted his hold on the lithe woman in his arms. She smiled as his hand settled firmly against her back and allowed herself to fall into the passive roll. It was up to him now, to see that they made it through the second pass safely.

" Strange… that this day should come… You are both everything, and nothing like I planned you would be. How fitting for a child of mine… I had intended you to be perfect, a burning light to rule the darkness… but when you finally were born… "

" …I was a disappointment… " It didn't hurt, he found, listening to her musings. So much of his energy was needed for other things that he could listen to her assessment with almost cool acceptance.

" I never said that. "

" You never had to. "

The woman shook her head gently. " You were yourself, Sydney. I had simply forgotten, what it meant to be human. You didn't 'burn' but you… twinkled. There was so much potential… but also so much weakness… Even blessed as you were, there is only so much any human can be. You'll see… when you are a god… it's so different. So many things are easy to forget. You'll probably even forget me. "

" I could never forget you. "

" There's no way to describe it, being a god… it's more than just knowing that you can do anything… it's this /feeling/… the rest… becomes rather insignificant. Addictive really. "

" Then why give it up? "

" Because I can? "

The blonde laughed, but there was little joy in it. " Despite my weakness… You still think I can accomplish your great task? "

" You aren't weak. "

" But you said… "

" I know… but let me finish. " Müllencamp rested her head against his shoulder as he began the first of several intricate twists. " It was /him/ you know? I… I didn't anticipate that. I didn't foresee Ashley at all. /You/ did… but not I… that's when I knew for certain… that you would go beyond me, beyond what I was capable of. It was as if you were the lamp, and he the oil. On your own, neither of you has… there was something dormant in both of you, but together it works. Do you see? "

" A little… "

" I should have told you this… a long time ago… that I was jealous of him. Your Riskbreaker could always do what I could not… it was He who awoke the fire in you, not I… it was he who took action to close the WellSprings… not I. I saw what needed to be done… but I was too cowardly, too selfish. It is no surprise, that he came back to you… how could he not? The pair of you were, no, still are more akin to the moon and sea than two men. He could no more resist your pull than he could cease to breathe or the tides could cease to flow. I should have told you this… then there would have been no reason to despair. I am sorry, child. "

" Why speak of fault when we were both to blame… "

" Sweet Sydney.  Despite your efforts, your gentle heart will always give you away. "

" I was never a very good villain. "

"You were a very roguish rogue. "

" I'm glad I amused you. " He looked down in worry as she sagged a little further into his arms. " My Lady? "

" I'm so tired, Sydney… "

" Just a little further… " The cultist was beginning to feel the strain as well. His feet were no longer moving with the fluidity as before, placing each new step required more effort than the last.

" It's time… "

" No, not yet… "

" Be brave, Sydney… "

He bowed his head into her flower scented hair and forced the tears to wait. " Will I ever see you again? "

" I do not know… " She smiled up at him. " I'm proud of you… you know that? "

" …I know… "

" Good. " The form in his arms was wavering, becoming less and less solid against the pressure of his arms. He struggled to let her go instead of clinging to her now phantom-like body. " I wish… I wish I had truly been your mother…"

" You'd have gotten tired of father, I think. "

"Hmmm, you're probably right." Her smile was brilliant despite her increasing transparency. " Take care of things, will you? "

"Of course."

"I knew…" Müllencamp was little more than a shadowy impression of a face, the luminous eyes slowly blurring into darkness. "…that I could count on you."

// Until we meet again, mother. //

There was no time to weep. Like a puppet his arms and legs continued to bend and turn, following the melody even though his thoughts were miles away. His feet moved on despite the loss, carrying him further and further down the path to his solitary finale. It wasn't until he had moved a quarter of the way around the ballroom's arch that the strange sensations from his legs registered on his consciousness. Weary, he looked down and had to blink in alarm.

He was dissolving.

Starting where his shoes touched the nearly-invisible ballroom floor, and slowly creeping up his calves, was an odd sort of pins-and-needles tingle. It didn't affect his movement. His knees continued to flex, his ankles to turn, but they were no longer /his/. Sydney tried to acknowledge what he was seeing, but his tired brain did not want to believe. The tingle was spreading upwards. Cloth and flesh at the border of the affected region wavered then broke, like oil separating from vinegar breaking off into little bubbles of color only to fade into the surrounding vapor. Left behind was a strangely brassy sheen. The stylized contours were obviously feet, but they resembled nothing so much as his armored greaves from Leá Monde. Delicately layered sheets of metal were shaped into the parody of a boot and held in place with regularly spaced pins. His shins and knees were transforming into much the same. Where smooth flesh and black leather had been was emerging an eclectic frame work of metal bands and rods. The prophet was being transformed from 'human' into something /else/.

// What is happening to me…? //

His old terrors were still buried deep, only waiting for a moment of weakness to boil forth once again. Swallowing convulsively, Sydney forced his eyes away from the changes overtaking his body focusing only on the task at hand.

Step, step, turn, reach.