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A Dance of Demons

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: The scent of incense fills the broken central room of the Sheriff’s Manor, from the incenser dangling from his hand. The manor of the most powerful political figure of the Boil, burning with the excesses of broken Sapphire Sorcery. Pieces of wood and glass still fall, and some of them fly away in the shape of impossible birds. And he does not care. The Boil does not matter for him. Sorcery is his trade, and he is jaded for essence. He does not care. For anything but her.

Crimson slits look down at the girl.
A woman. And yet, for those eyes, just a girl.

"How bold." The beautiful voice finally exclaims. Beautiful, honest, like the songs of Malfeas. Like the one Seilna heard upon her defilement. "My, how bold. Drained of your energy, inside a trap, and still confident!"

His face is unseen. His voice is twisted into something beautiful and melodic. And yet... there is something else. Within... within the armor, within the voice. His soul. His Shard. That makes her remember... that sparks the memories deep within her own shard...

Flying in wings of a thousand hues, shining like the aurora in the northern skies. Her dress on the wind, her hair ever so golden. He was here. He was here. Stepping into a palace of azure made with bits cut out of the sky, a palace that only exists at Midnight and Twilight, she knew. He had run here. "You can show up now, Denon. Berengiere has told me the truth about you. How you have sold your soul to her masters. I know. Soon, everybody will." A sound. No, not even a sound. The smallest of breaths. And they filled the room. Invisible death. She barely had time to raise her crystal blade and stop them all. Empyrean Javelins, visible only on the barest corner of your eye. She had seen her prey. She had become prey. "My, if it is not Myria, Devon’s great student. All information will be lost. I have already channeled my essence to it, and all who knew of me will disappear. The Yozis will return. I know of your compassion to them. Join me.Together... we can reshape this world on Their will." The woman lifted her blade. "Their suffering will end. We should have never done what we did. But not like this, Denon. Not like this. I am sorry. But it ends now." An anima of darkness. Wings of aurora. Empyrean javelins. Words of Sorcery. Everything, everything... then...

... and now.

"So you remember. I can see it in your eyes... just now." He opens his arms... and something rises behind him. One... two.... three... four... five. Five Great legs. Four legs of a scorpion. One great sting above his back. They touch the walls close to him. He was... ready. "We are not going to kill you, Moranine. We are not. You will live. You can make this easier then. Soon, my lieutenants will come. You have no chance. None at all. I was prepared for every eventuality. So... just do this the easy way. Give it up. Throw down your weapon."

He offers his hand, from so far above,

"Come with me"

Selina de Windia: "Drained?" Selina asks, surrounding by roiling wind and darkness, her eyes shining a piercing turquoise as she regards the other Abyssal. "You want me to come tamely?"

There is some memory, but without greater context, she will not follow this man. "Why should I do things your way and not mine?" Her free hand raises, indicates the manse and city about them with a sweeping motion. "Look at the sloppy job you lot have pulled! I should turn traitor for this?"

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: "Sloppy? My dear... you are here, like I had foreseen. Any help you brought will die outside. Kodak and the little pet he found are with my Thorns crushing the pitiful resistance in the Industrial District. The pieces of the body you thought was mine are Barr's. Everything goes according to the plan, dear lady. Why not?"

The incense flows to his face, and his red eyes glint. "Be on the winning side, Dark Angel. We need you. And you need us... more than you will ever know."

Selina de Windia: "So he was bait." Selina growls, her anima suddenly flashing to a greater height, sapping the light from the room. It grows to the height of the ward, and still it rises, sucking the clouds downward. "You've played a weak hand." She narrows her eyes at him. "If you need me that badly, you are not winning. If you desire the curse of Windia, victory cannot be yours."

"Why do I need you?"

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: "Because, my dea angel..."

"We can tell you who you are. We can truly tell you what the voices whispering in your mind mean. The black-winged doom of Windia. Your greater purpose in this world. We know all that... and much more."

"However..." He brings his clawed fingers to his face, amused, "You seem to be at a loss of what it means, you being here. Running is not really an option, my dear."

Selina de Windia: "Who said anything about running?" Selina purrs, gauging the man, trying to figure out the best way to attack him, before she is forced to make a move. "Barr is dead. The others will come soon."

She smiles at him, a death's head grin. "I wonder if you'll make a quicker kill than Void's Puppeteer."

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: The arachnoid legs behind him crackle, running along the walls nearby and leaving large cuts in them, the noise like nails on a blackboard. "Oh, you had to drag my old friend in this, did you not?"

"He was a genius, yes... however.. he was too much of a sorcerer." He waves his arm, and words of sorcery and necromancy appear around him, etching the air... until he returns with a fist, and crushes them into a cloud of broken magic... "Me, I know more how to deal with things... physically. And we need your soul, dearie. It will delight me to make your body a work of art as great as Kanti's."

Selina de Windia: "So my guess was close to the mark. It was either you, or the Hierophant." Selina raises her free hand, clenched into a fist, defiant.

"Your art is too avant-garde for my tastes." She says simply, moving the hand downward and to the side in a sudden motion, a weak burst of lightning and wind erupting in howling rage around the other deathknight...

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: "... nice try."

It explodes... part of the second floor collapsing over the first, sealing the entrance to the manor. But he is not there. An image made of incense vanishes from thin air... and he is nowhere. A blink, a moment between blinks, and he is in front of Selina.

His claw moves to her stomach, his crimson appendages striking the five points of her body that will make blood flow with beauty.

With no more words, it had begun.

Selina de Windia: Selina's free hand has barely moved back upward before the other deathknight attacks. Without even seeming to move her legs, the assassin fades back into the whispering shadow of her own anima, dodging the strikes this way and that, rapier-daiklave flickering up to stop the ones that threaten to strike home.

A formidable defense, but she cannot continue it for long.

Quick It's got to be!

To one side of the Parishioner after his flurry of blows, Selina's anima shrinks a bit, crackling with suddenly concentrated energy as she levels her free hand at the scorpian-Abyssal. "A mistake, deathknight." She purrs malevolently, the crackling bolts concentrating over her palm, growing in an instant to a ball twice the size of her hand. Her voice modulates in that instant, leaden with fury. "Die!"

Almost immediately, the blast howls forth at the Parishioner, widening with such speed that it is impossible to dodge, unable to be parried, searing the air with raw Void-spawned energy. Not as large as the ones she had released earlier, but just as potent, this blast. The other Abyssal disappears into that horrible maelstrom with nary a whisper.

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: He watches her blast, and she can feel his eyes going wide...

"... oh."

There he is, in the midddle of that onslaught.... it goes through him, it leaves only rests of his cape all around, going through the door, blasting more of the house down... the sounds of creaking wood growing louder. The house would not last for long.

A moment later, he is up there, far above on the room, near the roof, his appendages sank deep within the wall. The rags fall... and were just a decoy. He grunts.

"That is.... a new trick."

Selina de Windia: "How did you DO that?!" Selina snarls viciously, baring her teeth up at him. "You're going to tell me!"

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: "Same way you do, my dear..."

"Same way the Vestal did as she escaped you. Same way you did to escape Void's puppeteer. I am just more... advanced, in this."

He tries to sound confident. He tries. He looks around. Waiting for something... something that is not coming. Something that is not there. He looks around more... then jumps up, breaking the glass ceiling, going somewhere to the roof....

Selina de Windia: The great ebon-black dragon in Selina's anima emerges from the fog of darkness, roaring up at the withdrawing deathknight. "No. Not another Black Avian." She grates, feathered wings spreading, taking a beat. "Not again!" The Windian yells at him, leaping up toward him with her sword thrusting forward, cutting the shrieking air with the keenness of shattered dreams.

Outside...

The Metodies dissolve.
The vitriol pools lunge at the ward, corroding essence.
The soldiers lay on the ground. Burnt. No mortal, or lowly ghosts, survived the explosion of the Sapphire Circle. The two demonesses strike the field at once, then fall to the ground. They turn, their movements gracious. Their beauty breathtaking. They are dressed as for a regal ball, long dresses that are cut just enough to show so much flesh, and not hinder their movements any. One has a long hair of a color that is neither blond nor viridian, but something in between. Another, night-black hair. Their faces are devilish, mockeries of caste marks carved on their foreheads, each an intricate glowing rune. Black Sun. Shadow Moon. Small horns come right above it, metallic green brass, and shining onyx.They turn, in frustration, and walk as one to the front of the house. One looks at another. They smile.

"Master is locked inside this. With the Dark Angel.I cannot hear his voice, Agony... I want to hear his voice. Explosions are nourishing... but not filling! I need his voice..." Ecstasy says, touching the ward... as the demoness of viridian-blonde hair smiles, savoring it. "They are screaming, dear. It is so filling. Those dying men... listen to it. Poor, poor meat, their rough and uncouth voices... but cooked just right... this is wonderful. But, my dear... this ward was not put up from the inside. It was from the outside. Hear... feel..."

The woman with the night black hair turns... and hears. But before she can, the viridian-blonde haired spits... she spits forth flame and brass, melt in the heart of a sun. It explodes on a wall near Opal, the spilling flame setting one of Highlane’s gardens into a raging inferno in but a moment... and the light shining upon the Jadeborn’s skin. "There, dear sister."

"There is the cow that keeps his voice away from us."

And they walk toward her... so innocent. So beautiful. So deadly.

"So beautiful..."
"So shapely..."
"How does the earth moan?"
"How does the earth scream?"

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: Like a daydream, she saw the two. That they were demons she had no doubt, their natures were laid bare before her scrutiny like tablets upon a wall. She saw the lance of flame alight the garden, and she rose up from her place of concealment, the brief conflaguration casting a flicker of light to highlight her haunting features, set with grim detirmination dispite the trouble she was now in. Her Essence was gone - spent like so much dross to fuel that which ensured the Dark Angel's safety, but her own peril. So much death... all because they believed in the false promises that whispered in the dark places of their hearts.

Just like he had done.

Let me be bled. Let me be scourged of my sin. Let my flesh open and pour onto the rocks warmed by the blood spilt by those more couragous than I, and be shorn of my guilt.

She rose up to her full height, highlighted by the flame about her and demons more fearsome than she now faced. She spread her stance subtly, and extended one arm down and away from herself, the long train of her sleeve floating in the breeze.

"Come to me, then. And bleed."

Agony: Agony's steps are gentle. But confident.

Every step as if she was closing on a partner for a dance.

Then, at a safe distance, she stops.

"You think you can make me bleed...?"

"I would much like to see that, lovely Earth Woman."

With those words, she darts, uncanny speed, brass claws over her hands... but she does not use them. She a hand for Opal's arm, shifting behind the Mountain Folk and holding her face. "I will bleed you. But don't worry... dear sister will make you love it.."

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: It was all so perfectly predictable. As Agony lunged, she took a step forward, hooking her leg behind the demon woman. With a gentle nudge, the woman's leverage was gone, and Opal sent her back a few steps.

"Arrogance is the virtue of the defeated, my old sifu used to say."

Ecstasy: Ecstasy, on the other hand, approaches slowly. Coyly.

"Relax..."

She steps foward, and her hand moves slowly... gently, to Opal's face.

"We just want to play."

Creation slows down with her. And that slow, slow movement seems all but inescapable....

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: She narrowed her eyes, and considered the anomoly. This should not happen. And it was always a very bad idea to let the wicked touch you with intent.

She percieved her hand moving as if in a dream, slow and languid though she moved with all the terrible speed she could muster. She placed but two fingers on the woman's upper arm, just above her elbow, and pushed her gesture wide.

As quickly as a though, Opal lunged to grab Agony by her arm; one hand on the lower, one on the upper. She bent over like a reed in a stiff breeze, and with her weight put into the move, attempted to both grab onto Agony, and hurl her into her "beloved" sister.

Agony: The demoness hissed as Opal approached, twisting her body, the brass claws cutting the air in front of hair, leaving a trail of metal-clolored flame on their wake...

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: But, it is for now. She had been drained of her Essence, and they had the full power of their charms to call upon. She could only delay the inevitable at this rate, unless something changed dramatically.

Seeing as her grab was an effort in futility, she placed her hands immediately down as she moved, bringing her feet straight up as she did a handstand. Slippered feet aimed straight and the majestically beautiful demon's midsection, she could only hope it would deal a telling wound to the fiend.

All action is worthwhile if it is applied to the study of the proper action. For in every step of this battle their existed a way to defeat her opponent... she had but to find it.

Ecstasy: Ecstasy begins to walk towards Opal...

Smiling.

Night begins to cover everything around her. Opal feels the scent of brass, and so many voices in ecstasy. Moaning, writing, almost screaming. She is there. She is that. And she moves, to touch Opal. She takes her hairpins out of her hair, then moves to strike at Opal, twice with each of the Brass Hairpins... touching points that will even make earth writhe.

And it courses through Opal.... pleasure. Blinding, blinding pleasure.

She cannot hold it back. She cannot stop it. It feels like heaven.

No, not like heaven... something dirty, sinful...

Like the best of hell...

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: The tingling she felt was like bliss, though it was darker than the one that filt her soul. It was oddly intoxicating, the rippling, coaxing waves coarsing through her and making her limbs sluggish and none responsive, dulling her wits. She moved still, however, though she was in sore trouble. She held in check a moan, knowing it would give this creature power.

At least she could feel something again.

Ecstasy: Ecstasy walked up to Opal.... still smiling.

But now slightly... annoyed.

"So... silent. Won't you moan for me? Won't you whimper for me?"

She moved deftly towards Opal, holding the Jadeborn in her hands.... "Oh, I am going to make you moan for me... and take that shield down."

"So you can hear his voice as well..."

And she holds Opal. Gently.

The hairpins move along the rocky skin.... trying to elicit moans.

"Come on... moan for me... and open that ward, dearie. Let us help master..."

Agony: Agny walks up to Opal, and begins to touch her skin with the claws... intending to make shallow cuts.

Not cuts appear.

"She... she is so... armored."

"No screams... no. I wiill make you..."

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: She began to think as in a fever dream, and placed in her mind an uncrossable expanse to which she was safe. She felt the sensation on the edge of that expanse, letting it warm the cold vault of her heart. Grief could numb one to such horrors, and she called upon the memories of that which she had suffered to shield her from the meager assaults of the demon sisters, even as, outside, her body writhed, her back arched, and her fingers made grooves in the cobblestone.

But she did not make a sound.

• Around them, it seems all mostly.... over.
  
  The sheriff's manor is in shambles, pieces of it everywhere, some pieces of it filled with insects or birds that are just impossible to exist. The nearby manors are almost as hurt in the sides that faced the Sheriff's - pieces of them scattered around, and strange things shining within.
  
  Opal's ward is forever visible as it shimmers in oposition of the men attacking it, the demons corroding it. The garden close to Opal is engulfed in flames, that already run to the house, lighting up the night and showing Agony and Ecstasy holding Opal... and working their craft in the Mountain Folk.
  
  So far, with poor results.
  So far.

Seventh Moon: Broken black wings.
Run.
Empty eyes.
Run.
Cold scared skin.
Run!

Down broken streets. Past burning buildings. Hopping barricades of brick and bodies. Never fast enough.

Run!

What was left of the Sheriffs manor crumbled on the horizon, flickering in and out of focus as a ethereal dome flared around it. Stealth be damned, Moon had lead the Pack on a hell-for-leather charge through the Boils war-torn streets and alleyways, to get here. Panting, labored breaths of the mortals filled the air behind him, but the Lunar had to shut them out for now and open his senses to other things.

Where was she ? He could see a trio of figures bathed in the hot hues of the flame, caught a flash of pale flesh and the warm scent of sex and violence. Was it ?

No. Moon didnt take long to wonder just what the hell Opal was doing fooling around with a pair of women in the middle of this. But she didnt look happy for someone who smelled so happy. If she was in trouble or just fucking around, it didnt matter. Shed know where Selina was.

"Kid!" Moon burst ahead of others for a moment, twisting around into Kantis path. Fingers locked together, he stooped and caught her foot as she stepped down, then straightened like a shot. Heaving both arms above his head as he bent his body backwards, Moon hurled the Terrestrial towards the trio of women locked in their intimate embrace.

Kanti: mistress is in trouble!
mistress might be hurt!
mistress can't be hurt!

Kanti runs alongside Moon, keeping pace with him, a trail of smoke and flowers behind her as she runs through the city, robe of screams blowing in the winds, then Moon was infront of her and then he was behind her and she was flying through the air.

Flying towards three women.
Flying towards Earth
Flying towards Ecstacy.
Flying towards Agony.

Kanti's eyes widened, as their sight broughy more recollections.

Agony.
Ecstacy.
Both.
Neither.
Desire.
Fear.
Want.
Terror.
Need.

Kanti twists her body in the air, her body wrapped in flames and prayer and pure viridian light as she prepares for a fight she is not sure she wants to have.

She lands in the garden by the trio, and assumes a combative pose.
The most uncertain one she has in some time.

Agony.
Ecstasy.

They promised it all.

Pricessess of Passion and Pain: Kanti lands.
They turn.
The symbol on Ecstasy's forehead shining that deep violet.
The symbol on Agony's forehead shining that sickly green.

They smile, in recognition, even as fingers probe Opal, even as claws slash at her robe, leaving risks and her body bare, but eliciting no screams. They smile, as they let go of the Jadeborn, and begin to walk towards the Dragon-Blooded.

And they speak. As one.

"Kanti!"
"You came back!"
"We missed you!"
"Master missed you!"
"So much..."
"We want to make you moan!"
"We want to make you scream!"
"We want your help with the earthy bitch!"
"Won't you join us?"

Kanti: Kanti whimpers softly as the pair approach her, a sound somewhere between pleasure and pain, and for a moment the grip on the spear falters. Her eyes widden more as they get closer, her breath catching as the pair get so close to her.

They promise Agony They promise Ecstasy. Which did she want more?

...the pair of them moving over her skin as Mistress watched...
...the pair of them holding her as she was painstakingly ... lovingly ... carved...
... the pair of them and her together and the world dissolving into flames...

Just a few steps more, just a few small steps, and that could be hers again. She just had to let them take a few small steps.

Agony.
Ecstasy.
Mistress.

Just.
Agony.
A.
Ecstasy.
Few.
Both.
Steps.
Neither!

Kanti straightens herself, assuming the true Radiant Viridian form, the flames of power dancing around her.

"No. I can't do that. I can't let you hurt her anymore. Either of you."

And then she flickers like the flame, and the spear moves, and when it hits there is no pain.

• All around, they turn.
  To Moon.
  To the Pack.
  Criminals and dead soldiers and a few demons... all around.
  
  They begin to prepare.
  
  Moon can sense more scents coming.
  Outnumbered.
  
  The Pack comes, panting. Roughed. Some cut. But well enough. Well enough for a brawl, anywhere, anytime. Kinny finishes panting, and lights a cigarrette.
  Hanna picks the slim blade that came with her dark queen costume.
  They look around, and take in all their foes.
  They smile at each other, almost laughing.
  The Pack follows their lead, picking their weapons, and smiling.
  
  There were worst ways to go.
  And this would sure be a brawl they would never, ever forget.
  
  "You take care of the monsters, Boss." Kinny tells Moon, as if it was nothing. "The rest is us."
  
  Hanna smiles, walking towards the enemies, as the Pack spreads into a circle... "Say, there won't be any problem if we kill them all before you are done, will there?"

Seventh Moon: Moon looked back over his shoulder as he straightened, towards the mob breaking away from the mansion and stalking towards them and for a moment he forgot all about Selina. There were a lot of them. Shit, but there were a lot of them. And the Pack

He turned back to his gang as they began to prepare themselves. It was hard not to counter numbers as his gaze etched across their faces. How many of them were even left anymore? Felt like theyd lost so many They had stuck with him though, like the shadow at his back. Like the hounds at his heels. You werent going to find better.

His lids drooped and brows arched with obvious boredom and he flashed Hanna a crooked grin. "This lot? You shittin me? Aint even worth your time, fuck all if its worth mine." He pinched a cigarette from the row sticking out of Kinnys pocket and lit the tip against the other punks smoking joint. Moon casually sucked in a breath through the burning weed and blew the smoke out his nose. There was no long speech, no tearful well wishing. As he met each pair of eyes in turn, the good-bye that might be was spoken without words. Open sentimentality was for your lady friend and others who didnt know how to do it better. Your gang would always just know.

Finally, Moon crushed the cigarette out between his fingers and tucked it behind his ear. He made a grand gesture towards the approaching mob, like a dandy inviting guests into a ball, and gave them the only words that really mattered.

"Fuck um up good."

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: The fighting begins at the foot of the Manor. The Pack begins to break bones. Meanwhile, Selina follows the Parishioner far above... his great arachined legs impulse him upward above the roof of the manor and up...

Reaching to Opal's ward.

Falling down in the roof. Gracefully, and yet...

He looks around. He sees them all outside, trying to break the ward. And notices, at long last, that he is imprisioned there. Imprisioned there with the angelic assasssin. "You..." the Wretched snarls. "... you set this up. You locked us in here!"

Selina de Windia: Selina smirks, self-satisfiedly. "You aren't the only one who can make plans, Parishioner." Halting the onrush of her attack, she sinks down to the ground, moving to one side. "I ask again: what do you want with me?"

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: "Moranine."

"We need her."

"We are all together... all your old friends, Moranine! They are together for one last party, to take you out of the darkness and into the light! Whiteshield? Windia? The Bishop of the Calcedony Thurible? They are pawns! Pawns into a game played only by kings among chosen!" He points at the Dark Angel, his confidence returning, at least apparently. He gestures. "You think this ward will last forever? I have tolls to break it.. like my little art piece up there... made of so many souls that received special treatment by me..." As he gestures, Opal's ward around the floating device is broken by the souls. They come howling in. They break the device, and begin to take shape. The shape of a great beast made of howling souls, beautiful in pain and agony. “Eidolon. My greatest work, little girl. Able to break through as many regional gods and petty little Exalts as they have here. Able to turn this city to ash... much less this petty ward.”

"And you... you are our Moranine now. You..."

Then... he sees Moon. And Moon has his eyes drawn to him. Like with Selina moments before, mists of the past take their eyes... and they remember.

They remember, the palace of Azure. Myria was on the ground, bleeding... the Empyrean Javelins inbedded deep in her body. A circle was lined around her, and Danon was casting a spell. A spell that would make her forever look at the world his way... he smiled at Myria.

And then, the sky came crashing down. There was feather, there was music, and there was a flash of Lunar light. Denon lost an arm, and lost his incantation, that blew him through walls. As soon as he recovered, the great Lunar Angel was in front of him, still singing. Ofaniel. "You shouldn't have hurt her, Denon." He said, and it tied perfectly in the song.

Denon disappeared then, kicking debris on Ofaniel's face and blinding him with his own feathers. Denon was gone, as he disappeared, part of him hiding in blades of grass, on the shadow of trees, running away... until the moonlight brought him out of hiding. "You really shouldn't have done that." The hawk sang, even more beautific a voice than the Parishioner's... as feathers cut him out of hiding, pining him to the ground, and the hunter came closer...

"So... you are together again. You met him again!" He shouted to the monster, to all the others... "Kill him! He is too dangerous to live! Do not let the Lunar live!!! "

Selina de Windia: "Moranine. Yes." Selina says, almost to herself. Her pupils shrink to dots -- round, not slitted -- for a moment, as she nods to memories, shards of the past. "I was Moranine."

The Abyssal looks up to the Parishioner. The anima about her shrinks, hugging her body now, a corona of flaring, crackling, whispering rage, the dragon coiling about her form. "My Ofaniel comes again! "

Dreamshard flicks up, and Selina's free hand glows with that same Oblivion energy she had gathered for her last strike. Not released yet, waiting for the other deathknight to...do something. Attack her. Make the mistake of directing his creation at Moon. The globe of Void grows a bit larger, searing the air about her hand once more.

Seventh Moon: There was something tugging at the edge of his attention. An invisible string that pulled his head away from the Pack as inexorably as the moon chased the sun from the sky. There was something inside of him that hardened even as he turned, bracing itself for what would be there, and the guttural growl of the wounded hound echoed the sentiment. Moon saw Selina standing upon the roof. Saw the warding dome shatter like so much glass. And then...

Reality bubbled towards him. The other figure. The dark man. It was as if they were suddenly standing face to face, eye to eye, with no more between them than a breath.

Memory swelled upwards from someone elses mind, flooding him, ripping away a sense of self. He was an angel and they were somewhere else. Some time else.

Blood and pain. Broken-hearted agony, to see his love so near to death. Hungry anger expressed through song. Revenge...

Emotions that a thousand deaths would never wipe away, reflected in both their eyes.

The world snapped violently back into its proper place. Moon drew in a ragged breath through a jaw that would not be unclenched. He watched Selina move to the attack, but far more clearly heard the name she proclaimed

Ofaniel.

It will not be again as it was, Denon. My Moranine needs no Hawk to protector. Let your beast come, it may be some sport yet. You are already doomed.

Moon offered the ghostly behemoth a withering smile and raised his hand, gesturing it on with a flick of his fingers.

Eidolon: The great ghostly being looks down. Its claws touch the ward.

It wished to break it, but could not.

Maybe, with time... but it had a new target.

The creature is immense – easily four stories tall. It has four limbs, three heads, six tails and four pairs of wings. Of its faces, One is the face of Creation. Another is the face of Oblivion. And the third, the face of the Yozis. The first is in pain, and shifts every moment, with many details, always remaining a Dragon. The one in the middle is like a snake, a snake made of something oily black, not even there. Its eyes are a colorless white, shining in understanding of all things and perfect, perfect calm. And the third tries its best to be brass and fire, and it is hideous, in agony, but it sings beauty. It is the face of a Dragon as well, but one of brass, hardly alive. The tails are the five elements of the Underworld – one ends in Pyre Flame; One in a spike of Jade; One in a spike of Bone; One in a crystal of Blood; One in a crystal of Prayer; And finally, the Sixth ends in a crystal of Void, that unmakes pieces of all it touches. The wings are leathery, easily covering a whole manse in their full span.

All of its faces are in pain, because they are made of pain - the pain of all the ghosts within it, and showing that only Oblivion is not in pain... that only it rules over all. It is a painting, a performance, a work of art. One easily able to lay waste to a whole city.

It sings and roars and cries as it rushes towards Moon...
taking the Lunar off his feet, and driving him away through the Houses...
As if he was nothing.
Nothing at all.

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: He would smile if he could trust that Moon would be dead. But he knew Lunars far too well too. Knew Moon... he turns to Selina, without much humor. Without anything.

"Let us finish this, girl."

"Moranine will come out of a broken shell, if need be."

He lunges at her again... and strikes. His anima unfurls, a deep crimson hue, of such a strong dark that it goes red. It looks almost solid, stickly liquid, even being just light. It raises even higher, with thin threads of souls screaming in agony... and then, finally, a great spider appears within the thread, spining the agonizing souls, lord over all of them.

The spinder strikes.

Four forelegs. Her two long, sharp teeth.

Only trying to knock the Dark Angel out, but with artistry... darkness, the screaming souls, the sticky liquid in the air... it holds the angel's wings, it holds her limbs, her blade, her shard. It leaves her open to his strike...

Selina de Windia: Now it is Selina's turn to widen eyes, and she does so, reacting to the incoming combo that would snuff out of her life by dematerializing into the darkness of her anima, the nearly gathered energy at her hand winking out. The black energy travels to the side, moving out of the way of the attacks...almost. Before she can fully reform, the Windian once again turns insubstantial, her black mass moving out of the way, and again. When she finally reforms, Selina is glaring venomously at the other deathknight. This cost alot of her reserves.

He's open, wide open, as far as Selina can see. And she capitalizes on it, springing forward at him with blurred speed and grace, Dreamshard coming forward to pierce his body as her wings fold behind her. No battle-cry or sneering this time, just the near-silent whisper of shadow and solidified dreams cleaving the air.

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: His blood coated the ground.

Dreamshard cut through his armor, biting deep.

"My.. just like before... no artistry... at all."

"Only the thrill... Moranine was an artist... you are rabble, Dark Angel."

"We will need to work on that..."

Pricessess of Passion and Pain: They come closer to Kanti... taking careful steps.

They pout, all smiles vanishing.

"You sure?"
"We had such enjoyment last time, Kanti..."
"It was so fun!"
"Look at your scars! Master made you beautiful!"
"Master made you scream and cry and beg for more..."
"Vestal, too..."
"Don't you want to play with us anymore? Why? For her?" They make a sweeping gesture to Opal, "For that?" They say, as Kanti comes... shocked by the attack...

Agony: Agony stops the spear with her claws.

She blocks it... but she feels nothing.

No impact.

"Kanti... you are not trying to hurt?"

"You want me to, don't you?"

"I will, then. I am going to hurt you. Like you asked me to, last time."

She lunges foward, and strikes once with each claw, laughing joyfully. Wanting it. Wanting to hear her old friend's screams. Just like before... her greatest meal, ever. Her tastiest. She

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: The sounds of battle joined and the shock of a behemoth formed brought Opal back to herself. Still, the damning tingle of that demon bitch's charm caused her movements to come with difficulty. She felt the sore points where they had probed and prodded her, and found her robes opened to reveal her bared form to the night air. She began to crawl toward the ward, bitting her lip against the sensations that caused her to gasp every once and a while.

Once behind the edge of the energy, which flowed over her like a gentle kiss instead of an unyielding wall, she collapsed, curling herself into a ball of misery to await the outcome.

Humiliated.

Kanti:
No...no I'm not sure
We...did....
It...was..so..so much...
He...did...yes...She said I was
He did...to plead for him...
She did...to plead for her was divine...
I do! I do! But...I can't...because of her. and moon. and fiona. and everyone else.

Kanti falters as she strikes, shivering at the sight of the pair's displeasure, the spear easily knocked aside by Agony's claws. She can't bring herself to speak, doesn't trust her words right now.

No...no..I can't hurt you..
I want you...oh how I want you....
But I can't ask for it this time. I won't.

The spear spins in her hands, guided by the touch of dragons around her, knocking first one claw, then the second aside, the robes on her body screaming as the talons that caused so much hurt come so close...

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: She watched as Kanti put herself in the face of Agony. She will get hurt again.

Opals breath came in laboured gulps as she attempted to deny the all too good little sensations coursing through her. She laboured to get to her feet, over the paralysing sensation... she limped toward Kanti a ways, but soon fell over the body of one of the defeated metodies, her hand falling over its weapon. The cool feel of it gave her pause, for by its weight it was magical.

There are rules in all things of wonder. Their Essence flows so predictably...

She reached out with the few meager shreds of Essence left she possessed, and forced them through the ordered structure of the staff, and felt it quake in response to her efforts.

Ecstasy: Agony passes by Kanti. And Kanti hears it.
Her own screams.
On agony. A dress so much like her own...

I want more.
She can feel in Agony
I love you too much. I need more of your screams... more of you...

Ecstasy walks up to her then, smiling, hairpins on hand. Her strikes are precise. Two of them, with all her desire. Her desire to hear Kanti in bliss once again...

Kanti: ...can I deny her that?
...all she wants are my screams.
...all she wants is to hear my pleas.
such a small offering for someone who loved her.

so small.

I must.

She looks at Agony with apology in her eyes, until the delicate desires of Ecstasy pull her away and the spear moves once more to deny a demon her dreams.

Pricessess of Passion and Pain: Kanti feels it in her. Bliss. Blinding bliss. So much. So strong it hurts.

Ecstasy holds Kanti's face then. "See? You want this again. Blisss... pain... us... say it..."

They all barely hear the Parishioner calls for Moon's death. It makes the demonesses shiver, to hear his voice. They shiver, but then look at Kanti... and at Moon... trying to decide....

Kanti: Creation shrank.
Creation expanded.
Creation was pleasure.
Creation was pain.
Creation was a smiling demon holding her face.

"... yes ..." she whispers.
"... yes ..." she pleads.
"... yes ..." she begs.
"... anything ... everything ... somthing ... please ..." it comes out as barely a whimper.

At the back of her mind, the garda bird cries out at the betrayal.

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: She saw Kanti fall, and a rage engulfed her. A dark thing born of her own hatred for herself.

Dark.
Terrible
Bitter.

She took up the heavy staff, made for some beast who defied understanding, and ran toward Ecstacy like a beautiful berserker, anger flashing away the sensation that dulled her.

"You will not touch her again!!"

Ecstasy: Ecstasy turns to Opal, and gasps, too enraptured by her catch to notice the woman... until it was too late.

She still had a moment to use her grace to try to move out of the way, while still holding Kanti....

Hit by the blow, thrown up the ground, she lifts her face, wiping some blood out of the corner of her mouth...

"Don't you hear it? She wants it, earth-lady. She wants our touch."

Agony: Agony walks up to Kanti, and her claws run through the Dragon-Blood's skin... cutting, artfully. Shallow. Painful. A greater pain than it should be.

"Please, Kanti, scream for me... I hear you, every day, but it is not the same... scream for me, and tell the earth-lady... tell her...."

Kanti: Kanti looked up at Agony.
Kanti felt the claw sliding over her skin.
Kanti felt the agony seeping from the cut.
Kanti felt the pain merging with the pleasure.
Kanti took the pain and focused.
Kanti forced the whimper to stay within her.
Kanti forced herself back to the world.

She whispers.
"I can't beg ... I'm sorry."
"I can't plead ... I'm sorry."
"I can't let you go."

Her eyes met the demoness', and they are dark and full and forgiving.

The Fragrant Incense Spear stabs forward, stabs into the demon, stabs through her agony.
Kanti doesn't try to mute the pain.
Kanti doesn't try to ease the hurt.
Kanti doesn't try to sooth the demon.

"So ... so ... sorry ..."

Agony: She could not believe it.

Hurt.
Betrayed.

She tried to hold it, belatedly.

She just... could not... believe it.

"I loved you..."

Seventh Moon: The dragon roared as its ethereal flesh screamed and cried.

Moon did not hear it.

It poured down the slopes of the ward, unreal flesh dripping pieces of souls like rotted meat, others scooping them back up as they past.

Moon did not see it.

The very earth shook as it tumbled from the ward onto the ruined grounds of the estate and raked the bloody dirty with its claws of bronze.

Moon did not feel it.

Moraine. Damon. Ofaniel Selina. Parishioner. Me.

The world had spun. The world was still spinning. The ghost-dragon was lumbering forward, its great jaws gashing.

Moon did not move.

The thought had come unbidden, voiced from the memory that was not his own. Voiced not to the memory, but to the present. Speaking into his mind as if it owned that place within him as well. The thought of someone who had died long ago. Emotions of someone who should have been too dead to feel emotions. Born in the moment he stared into the eyes of the Dark Angel. Born again in the moment he and Parishioner traded looks. Another ghost, haunting him from the inside.

"What are we darlin'?"

The ghost-dragon swung its great head downwards and swept Moon aside. The earth abandoned his feet and Moon hurled like a shot through several lays of burning shrub and hedge maze before a stone wall imposed itself in his path. Bone cracked within his chest as he crashed into the wall and the pained cry that burst from his lips sprayed blood through the air.

"Our power ain't ours. Rather, we didn't have it first."

Footsteps to rock the hillside lumbered closer, burning hedges torn from their sculpted place and thrown aside as the dragon hunted for the Lunar.

"So what then? There's someone else livin' in our heads? "

Moon scarcely had thought to roll as the edge of a gigantic claw reduced the wall he had impacted into a cloud of white chalk. Screaming again, the voices of the ghosts woven into the monstrosity shouted where he was. He had barely gotten back to his feet when the shadow of an enormous head fell over him. A cloud of dust billowed into the air like a foundry smoke stack as the great beast lashed its head down.

"Not...really. Just memories. I think."

Moon lay scant inches away from the cratered impact of the dragons neck, staring up into the empty eyes of its second head.

"So does that mean it's us or just them fuckin' around with us?"

Grave-breath washed over him as it snorted. Whatever dark intelligence it held seemed to find the situation amusing. It raised a great paw and with a wicked delicateness for a creature its size, began to slowly dig its claw into his chest. It pricked through skin, through flesh, splinted bone and then the dragons head drew back in surprise as the claw refused to move any more.

"Us. I think anyway."

Moon grasped the claw tightly and pushed back, blood oozing faster out of his wounds as every muscle shook to stop the claw from going any further. His teeth were grit tightly, but a face that should have been red with strain had become deathly pale.

"Stand." A voice commanded. That voice. His. voice. Within himself, Moon could suddenly see him looking down. A regal figure, all silver and white, but strong. Powerful. Majestic. Everything Moon was not. And where the dragons claw pierced Moons chest outwardly, within it was the same place the elegant winged man pressed down his booted foot. "Stand up and fight."

"No." Moon answered through his teeth, pushing harder at the weight against his chest. Near by, the Hound was struggling as well. Teeth bared and backing away hesitantly from another shape inside him. Something with wings and talons and sharp, greedy eyes.

"Fight!" Ofaniel demanded, a wave of frustration and anger at the weakness being shown rolling through him. The Hound yelped as the Falcons talons raked its flanks, the wounded dogs answering snap falling only on air. "Fight, or I will fight for you."

"No." Moon hissed, closing his eyes tightly, shivering worse. Despite all he tried, the claw was coming down anyway.

The weight would not let up no matter how he shoved. It made him feel lighter. Dizzy. It was hard to think straight. Visions kept flashing through his mind. Names he knew and didnt know: Bastian, Sati, Fintan. Faces hed never seen but knew intimately. Places he had never been, but were as familiar as home. Someone elses life. Someone elses wants.

"Fight, you miserable child! I did not wait so long to see my Moraine again only to lose her now!"

Moons eyes snapped back open, pale orbs staring in oblivion towards the sky.

Moranine.
Selina.
"My Ofaniel has come!"
"We make our own fates."

"NO!" the word burst from his lips. The dragon above him twisted all three heads curious at the defiant scream, but the word and his gaze where not meant for it.

It suddenly was so easy to push the man away. So easy rise back to his feet again. Moon could see the confusion in the ancient Lunars eyes and how angry the man was to be confused. The punk glared at the other man hard, then spat into his face. "I aint gonna be you and I aint" Selina. Kanti. Vestal. Parishioner. Shadow Eyes. "I aint gonna be one of them. Im a bastard and Ive done some bad shit but I aint a monster yet. Im gonna my own goddamn fate, fucker."

Talons raked across the Hounds muzzle, but this time the dog took no notice in contempt. There was a hole where its heart should have been. What was one more scratch to a dying dog? It walked past the Falcon, who seemed immobilized, limping but proud. Head high. Defiant into darkness.

The resistance to the dragons claw suddenly vanished and the heavy talon slid easily into the layers of living flesh and chinked against the ground bellow. One great head leaned down and prodded the body bellow its foot, watching it flop against the claw that pinned it. The beast let out a terrible cry of victory, one neck craning around to howl its triumph to its master

Just the blade of Selinas scythe cleaved through the Abyssals neck. No mortified cry came from the undead beast, only the stare of cold calculation and the constant screams its flesh gave. The dragon was a mad creation. It knew no loyalty to the man who birthed it beyond that which the Parishioner himself enforced. But it knew a threat when it saw one. The woman, that scythe, they were dangerous. The two other women upon the ground, the pale one and the Chosen of the Dragons, dangerous as well. But they were weak now, drained from their battles. And it was strong.

The beasts tails lash as it begins to coil its body around back towards the ruined mansion and nearly tumbles as its foot sticks to the ground. All three great heads twist to stare down at the little figure bellow its paw whose arms still clutch around its talon. The dragon tugs again experimentally. Moon smiled up at it with bloody teeth and grips the claw tighter. Annoyed, the dragon reached down with on head, fangs dripping a black ooze of tortured souls then lurched again. A ring of silver light spun around the edge of the dragons claw where it pierced Moons chest...

The Hound was laying upon its back, belly towards the sky. Moon smiled and rubbed, laughing as its back leg kicked through the air. Its mouth was open, teeth gnashing upwards at the dark weight hovering over it and near by a silver Falcon and a tall man with snow white wings watched in despair.

The dragon was trashing desperately, throwing the ruined garden into further chaos with its desperate upheavals. But there was no escape. The ring of light had become the mouth of a fanged maw. Bite by bite, soul by soul, it chewed the dragon apart.

"All of this, just to deny me a moment of happiness?" Ofaniel asked from where he watched the younger Lunar and his totem. As much despair as rage filled his voice. But he was fading, his light growing dimmer. Going back to where ever it was old memories who refused to die lurked.

Moon looked up frowning, then smirked at the ancient Lunar and shook his head. "All this, so I dont gotta become you, asshole."

Eidolon howled, stomped, raged and died anyway. Nothing came to aid it. Battle was rising near by, in the ruins of the Parishioners failed trap and there was precious little of the dragon left to draw attention. Perhaps, in the last second before it was consumed completely, someone fighting near by took notice of the brilliant flash of silver light from out of the depths of the ruined hedge maze. Perhaps not. Seventh Moon didnt care. He was smiling, as the last dark soul warped into dragon shape vanished into the gleaming maw upon his chest. Smiling even though he could not longer feel his limbs or the pain he should have been feeling. He was smiling because he was still himself and that was a damn fucking good thing to be.

"Upon death, your soul may go its righteous path, and touch Heaven. There, you are given another chance in the wheel of life, judged, to come back... to live another life, better or worse depending on how you lived. One climbs it as a stairway, on your own deeds, to reach the power of Exaltation, to live as a Dragon... and beyond. Heaven Judges you. Heaven knows this."

"Heaven knows who you are."

And when the Eidolon died, Seventh Moon fell to the ground, dying.

Selina de Windia: Wings spreading behind her, Selina takes to the air before the other deathknight can catch her, moving up and out of his reach. And then, nearly at the pinnacle, she looks down, turquoise eyes flickering with an inner fire. The energy gathers about her free hand once again, growing to full intensity in a single second, releasing in the next with a peal of half-insane laughter from the the Abyssal.

Instant

The wide-beam of Void-energy is simply there one moment, having come into being without ever needing to grow or stretch to its full length. Burrowing into the ground beneath the mansion, eating away at the floorboards and tiles, devouring the Parishioner who is caught within its terrible darkness.

End

There is no smoke, no falling boards -- almost all was consumed by that ravenous attack. Merely a receeding inverse glare remaining to cast the survival of the other deathknight in doubt.

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: The manor exploded.

The explosion shattered the ward, sending everybody to the ground.

Amidst the remains of the House, stood the Parishioner... coughing blood, crushed by pillars and glass... the crimson insectoid legs vaporized. His cape gone. His armor scorched. He looked up at the Dark Angel.

And part of him wondered... how did things go so wrong?

How?

In the middle of nowhere... little help to her... how...?

Ecstasy sees this, and her eyes go wide, tears filling them, running...

Agony cannot even move fron the ground, looking at Kanti... looking at the rubble... crying....

Kanti: Kanti watches the spear hit her.
Kanti watches the spear hurt her.
Kanti watches her betrayal hurt her.
Kanti catches her, and kisses her, and holds her close.
Kanti catches her, and kisses her, and lets the fire burn all around her.

"I know you did." she says, in a quiet distant voice.
"I think I loved you too."

And she holds her, as the fires burn, and she cries.

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: Opal falls to the ground near Ecstacy... though while no mortal force could cause her to loose her place on the firmament, she felt throughly drained. She gave a soft groan as small bits of her own Essence flying blinded her vision, a moan for the sensation that watched over her...

And almost wept when she saw Kanti embracing the thing she tried to save her from.

Selina de Windia: The ward is gone, and she sees clearly now. The devastation outside, the demons -- one dying, the other kneeling close by. Both weeping. Kanti weeping with them. And then she looks down on the other deathknight, a terrible goddess of destruction gazing down on her vanquished opponent. Her eyes burn with turquoise light, colder than ice, now. The iconic dragon of her anima hovers over her, regarding the others. Which one next, it seems to say, low rumbling growl coming from the display.

"You could have bargained with me." Selina hisses, voice loud enough to be heard. It rises in volume. "You could have done this another way. An honorable way."

Not that assassins were supposed to know anything of honor. But Selina had not always been an assassin. Wreathed in her black flames and brilliant lightnings, she remembers that. And it only makes her angrier.

"But you didn't."

Dreamshard glows

"You tried to destroy others to get to me. I, who have no one."

Dreamshard shines, piercing

Somewhere inside the Windian, a little voice, one heard intermittently over the years, cries out for her to do something else. There must be another way to resolve this. They weren't worthy of destruction, right?

"Let me twist the knife before I drive it home, Parishioner." Her sword glitters with chaotic energy, and she grasps it with both hands, holds it up in front of her. The rising tide of screaming voices can be heard coming from the sword. Children, maybe. Some might call them that. If no one else could be, the Fair Ones were malevolent children. Selina's anima banner burns with a savage fury, and blood lances out from a wound suddenly carved into her back, between her wing roots.

"Twist it, like this! " The Dark Angel roars, in time with the screams as they reach a fevered pitch, and the unmaking chaos dissolves Ecstasy's very being.

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: "You... will destroy beauty... something so beautifull... like that? While she is defenseless...? Too shaken to react and try to stop you...? Such a innocent child..." He coughs more blood, out of his mask... as he hears Agony wail at the death of her sister. A short wail, as she was too far gone already...

"You... are... a bigger monster than I...."

The mask falls, revealing his eyes. She sees the terror within, and the words.

I thought you a little girl... no...

You are a monster. Greater than even my former lords... Culwyeh...

Selina de Windia: Selina sheaths the rapier-daiklave, and takes the sickle at her side, which grows into the full scythe as she descends slowly. "Yes." Her voice is smooth, icy cold. "And you backed this monster into a corner." No shaking. She didn't shake when she destroyed the Black Avian, and he was what she could be, in the future. This one...no regrets. None at all. The twin dots of red light on the blade look down to the Parishioner. "Meet Chimes of Nothing, Deathknight. He was a Nephwrack."

Lamenting Parishioner of Maladies: He looks... then closes his eyes.

Decades of life. Decades. So many plans... so much... so much.

So much art to create.
So many plans to come to fruition.

Yet, he felt his greatest creation die.
He saw one of the greatest things he laid his eyes upon consumed by chaos.

And it would end like this. Because he underestimated a monster, and thought her just a little girl. He thought himself a monster, the greatest of them. An artist in pain, he had seen so many begging. And now, he felt the terror. And now, it was him, begging.

"Finish... me... already... then..."

Selina de Windia: Selina lands, looking down at the other Abyssal. She pulls the scythe back, its flat-black, hungry blade catching just a bit of light, absorbing it. And hesitates for a moment.

"You have my apologies for...having to meet me, Parishioner." And then she swings Angeldust forward and across, and its bite is hard and cold.

They hear the enemy coming. Too many of them. The trap laid for Selina, to bury her, waste her essence as the Parishioner ran from her.

To murder all who came with her.

Too many.

But then, help came.

The few of Hemmlock's men not in the Industrial and still alive. All of Iria's soldiers that were waiting for a signal. The Child of Wyld Day's warning had brought them here, to help as they could. Little godlings, the Spookies, the oddities of the Boil. The Scarlet Raven, a creation of the Father of Crows who had bargained for her freedom, one of Hemmlock's best strange assassins. Riotous Amber, taking the Warstrider Opal had used before, going through anything on his path to try to save Opal...

One last battle.

But the Parishioner is no more. His demons are defeated. His greatest creation broken.

The Exalted did their part, destroying those that alone could destroy all the human forces of the Boil... and when the smoke began to clear, the survivors of the Pack were there, close to the Exalted. Hanna, the head of demons on her belt exploding in diamond-flare essence, learning more about fighting in one night than in all of her young life. Kinny, holding the Smiling Lover in his arms – his group chanced upon her prision, and with one last effort he saved the patron of the Red Lantern District, earning forever her favor... they were there, close to the emotionally and physically thorn Exalts...

And far away, more were coming.

Iria, the Iron Angel.
The Gears.
Days.
The workers.
Alexander.
The Pale Angel.

They came, what was left of the Boil, destroying the undead as they went...

And creating legends.

Legends that are so far from the truth, and that will last to eternity, even after the Boil is no more.

• • • • **** **** ****

"Wow... I just got to see that Opal woman. You know, the one who actually _rebuilt_ Iron Tears when he fell? I saw that happen, too. Was fighting with a bunch of others in the Red-Light when Rusty fell over, then she pieced him back together... My god she's beautiful..."

"Did you hear? The Dark Angel fucked us our path to victory! She secertly works for the Smiling Lover and seduced Rusty into helping! Wonder how much she charges..."

”She? Man, she killed them all! I was there! She is a monster wearing human skin, a monster who eats people! If you pay her for a night, you'll go straight to the other side... I have seen her, teeth, claws and withered face, picking the pieces of those she killed...”

"Look, there he is... No you idiot! Don't stare... thats him though, the one who started this whole mess. Self-rightous fuck just got tired of the undead honning in on his drug business, so he burned half the city down. What? What do you mean what business? He's the FATHER OF CROWS! Of course it was about money and power!"

"You heard? I saw as the Monkey-girl came, kicking as she went... she was unstoppable, man! I think she has a deal with Rusty... she is some fae he captured! She is his lover and bodyguard! Wha? The Captain? Naw, the Captain got his OWN fae..."

"You seen her? The Dragoness? She is slave to Father of Crows... yes, I saw them together! What, the Dark Angel? No, no.... you all got it all wrong! She is the Lover's slave! She moves with such grace, with such caring... you think she could work with those monsters? She is a savior the Smiling Lover brought from heaven..."

“What about the scars? Oh, that is to remember us how much she suffers for us, every time we need to have something so beautiful and innocent fight for us...”

"The prince? Yeah, I saw him... beautiful like an angel. A collar on his neck, led around by the Dark and Pale Angels..."

"Oh, yes. But remember that you keep your dangerous dog on a leash, too!"

“You are wrong... you weren’t there, on the Industrial district when they came, angels dancing in the sky, him and the Pale Angel... they are angels, by any other name. The Pale Angel must have become a goddess when she died, and so did the Prince! He is no anathema, he died in Whiteshield and was reborn as our new god!”

• • • • **** **** ****

Many legends... so little truth.

Many heroes. The fight of a Dark Angel, devouring her foes.
Destroying Black Avian, and saving Simma.
Destroying the Parishioner himself.
The fight of Kanti, destroying Niremar, the lord of nightmares, to save Simma Siray...
Days' fight, warning Iron Tears, fighting with him...
The fight of Iria, facing Barr's skull-faced enforcer,
Becoming Iron Tears' avatar.

Few would know, remember, that an entire revolution,
an entire war,
once rested in the shoulders of one young man.
One young man who grit his teeth, and decided not ro run.
Like Luna expects her children not to.
And she never gives her kiss to those underserving.
To those that do not have the potential... to grit his teeth, to get up, to fight.

And so he did, and so he made that decision, on that rainy, cloudy day on a whorehouse.

All would forget, and turn to more public figures. See him as a crimelord, one to respect and fear.

But those that matter...
The heart of a city...
Will never forget that, among their pantheon of heroes,
Among the many great deeds performed by their Exalted,
they owe everything to a young man's spirit.
To Seventh Moon's decision.

Rise of Fire and Iron,
~End.

This was... awesome and sad and wonderful and terrible.

I was shaken at the end. Kanti made me cry. Selina made me hold to my seat, shocked. Opal made me want to stop everything to hurt her, and her flaring emotions surprised me. Moon made me get tears on his sacrifice.

It was a good ending.

I will miss Ecstasy...

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