Chapter Text

A bloodcurdling scream filled the cold stone hallways of the Thousand Hands Keeps dungeon.

Buck looked up from his card game with the massive elf guard before him.

“Your turn.” The elf snapped, not looking up from his hand. Buck rolled his eyes, placed his cards down facedown, and moved off down the dungeon hallway. He cursed his luck under his breath: if only he had been able to move just a little faster, leap just a little further, the blasted thief would not have escaped with that armful of his Master Zhin’s things and he wouldn’t have been punished with dungeon duty.

The dungeons were home to Zhin’s darkest enemies, those who had dared cross him, and the slaves who would just not respond to the bite of the whip. A few nights in the cold, dark solitude was enough to drive any mad, but the screaming girl was already mad.

It was his master’s hobby to buy women and meticulously, slowly, carefully, drive them past the brink of sanity. Buck arrived at the jail cell and shoved the heavy stone door open. The tiny window on the wall illuminated a small elven girl huddled in the corner, staring at the guard with wide, doe eyes, large almond-coloured irises, and tears streaming down her soft cheeks. Suddenly she shrieked out in alarm, her words mashed together and unintelligible, something about voices, voices. She crawled forward a pace toward Buck, screaming something barely coherent about making the voices stop. Then she collapsed back, as if she remembered who Buck was and what he had done to her. She hid her face from him.

This girl… she was an object, she was an artifact that belonged to his master, yet there was something in the back of his head telling him that everything he had done, everything he was, was wrong.

The girl’s face was buried in her hands as she sobbed loudly. Buck reached out a hand to her and her face raised from her hands. Her wide doe eyes opened to reveal violet irises and sightless pupils.







Buck sat up in his bed in alarm, his face crashing into someone else’s. The other person cowered away in pain and rubbed the bridge of her nose, crying out. She glared at him, her sightless eyes barely focused on his form.

“Wha- what are you doing in my room?” Buck snapped, turning on his tableside crystal lamp.

“On what do you dream, mortal?” Seris asked. A trickle of brownish red blood slowly began from her nose.

“Apparently your creepy eyes.” The monk muttered under his breath. He noticed that the woman was currently dressed in nothing but an open coat that barely reached her hips, almost revealing herself and explicitly revealing her breasts. He modestly shielded his eyes.

The door to his room opened and The Ascended entered the room. Jenos had not his mask or a shirt, and his silver-blue hair was rough and messy.

“Seris!” Jenos spoke in a strong voice, “No! We do not enter other people’s bedrooms without their permission, that is very inappropriate!”

Seris frowned and faced the floor. The trickle of blood dripped from her nose, leaving a small trail behind on the floor as she moved off of the low bed and to Jenos. She placed her head on his shoulder and he gently stroked her bald head.

“My apologies, Buck. My dear Seris is not quite used to the formalities of possessing a mortal body.” Jenos spoke calmly. The god led Seris from the room and closed the door behind the duo.

Buck sighed and moved out of his bed. His head was throbbing from smacking his face into Seris’ and besides, he did not much feel like trying to sleep anymore. He sat on the floor at his bedside table and scrolled through his worn brown journal, recalling his adventure from the Magistrate’s army to Tau Kor, and his slow work at regaining his individuality and sanity over all of these years.

The monk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He missed the faint snores of other monks around him. When Jenos had arrived at Tau Kor, he had been offered a small home to allow him and his Abyssal companion some privacy, and The Ascended had requested Buck take one of the bedrooms. Buck had eagerly agreed, not realizing how soothing the presence of the other monks in a sleeping quarters was. Now, all he could hear was the faint voices of Jenos and Seris’ conversation through the thin reed walls of the neighbouring bedroom.

Giving up hope of any peace for the remaining two or three hours of the night, Buck stood, dressed in comfort garb, and left the home into the quiet of the night.







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Khan sat back on his sleeping mat, his eyes closed gently as he listened to the sounds outside his tent. There was a soft rain pattering on the canvas that surrounded him, walled him from the troops moving back and forth in their camp outside.

Khan’s silver eyes opened and he reached for his knapsack, rifling through it with determination. He found his object of desire, a small photograph of Lian in her evening gown, her hair amess, her eyes barely focused. He had taken this one years ago when she was a young maiden, barely flowered, after she had come to his room in the dead of night complaining of bad dreams. He had taken her little form in his arms and held her close, humming a melody he couldn’t quite remember, before tucking her into bed beside himself, his body wrapped around her, pressed against her warmth.

The photo’s rim was worn from the decades of him tracing his fingers on it, and it bore stains of sweat from the countless battles in which it had ridden in his helmet, giving him hope to continue moving on, always fighting, always winning for House Aico and for his beloved Princess Lian.

He placed the picture in the pocket of his scarlet and gold trimmed coat and moved outside his tent, his feet bare in the cool, soft mud, his freshly trimmed and slicked hair moistening in the humidity of the morning. The only armour he wore was his golden gauntlet, freshly cleaned for the day.

Soldiers from the three factions moved back and forth with a briskness, eager to pick up their packings and continue moving forward. The mountain range in which Ascension Peak stood loomed in the distance, watching the invading armies. Khan gazed at the sky, watching the soft clouds and the way the dark clouds in the distance loomed in, threatening an oncoming storm.

Somewhere over the trees, he spotted a flash of red: a scarlet bird struggled against the storm winds, yet why it would not simply hide in the trees and wait the storm out, Khan was unsure.

The mighty primus was interrupted from his ponderings by a scream. He moved to the sound, to see a pair of Tigron from the Thousand Hands, a massive black-furred samurai and the short grey tabby female he had seen before. The samurai was wrestling the girl to the ground and tearing at her shirt in the middle of the Thousand Hands portion of the encampment, yet not a single other member of the camp even cast them a glance. Khan frowned, before stepping toward the duo and raising his gauntlet toward them.

“You’re mine!” He growled, and the magic of his gauntlet came to life, wrenching the samurai away from the helpless girl and moving him by his chest into Khan’s hand. The samurai snarled and slashed a fist full of claws in the giant’s face. Khan responded by aiming his gauntlet and blasting the samurai into a nearby tree, stunning him.

He turned back to the girl. Before he could ask if she was alright, she leaped to her feet and rushed to the samurai’s aid, touching the now growing welt on his head.

Khan shook his head and moved away from this portion of the camp. He spotted someone moving with a purpose toward Lian’s tent, and decided to intercept the man.

As he moved closer, Khan recognised the topless man’s long raven-black hair and the scars and tattoos of fire that littered his back. Zhin .

“My lady has not yet awoken.” Khan snapped, causing Zhin to pause and glance up at the warrior.

“I don’t recall asking.” was the Tyrant’s response as he continued his move forward.

Khan hurried and put himself between Zhin and the tent.

“My lady’s sleep will not be interrupted .” Khan hissed through his teeth.

Zhin’s dark eyes closed as he chuckled. He crossed his scar-covered arms before his chest and eyed Khan up and down slowly.

“It must be painful.” The Tyrant muttered, his dark eyes meeting Khan’s glowing silver, “You’ve pledged your life to her, you live as her dog, when she wishes to sit you offer her your knee, and what thanks do you get?”

Khan gripped his fists as he snarled back, “The knowledge that I carry out my purpose and give my dying breath to my lady is my reward, greater than any gold shrine.”

Zhin leaned closer to the man, “It must be painful, agonizing. It was painful when you were younger, knowing that the woman you loved was pledged to sit on my lap, knowing how badly I wanted to hurt her, knowing how the one person you couldn’t protect her from would be the man she took instead of you.” He leaned back and scoffed, “Now look at you. She’s never going to marry me, even if I do still hold our betrothal contract. She’s all yours, and yet she doesn’t give you the time of day.”

Khan stared at the space above Zhin’s head as he responded, “You and I are different. You are like a child, all you can think of is your toys, everything is your toys. My Lady- Lian- is not your toy and she never would have been. She is more clever than you, stronger than your mother, more resilient than the women you destroy, fiercer than the samurai at your sides… I do not pain because I cannot love her… because I do. I do love her, this I am not afraid to admit. I follow her and love her not as her dog, but as something you will never understand. Zhin, no one will ever love you, no one will ever respect you, no one will ever think of you as more than an insane toddler with a flaming sword. Therefore, you will never understand the way I love Lian, and how proud it makes me feel to know she has stepped on you like the insect you are.”

Zhin frowned, seemingly taken aback by the fact that Khan had not stooped to his harassment. Khan smiled, his gaze sharp. He leaned to Zhin and whispered into the man’s ear in a dark tone, “And, do not flatter yourself, brat. You may swing a broadsword on the battlefield, but in the bedroom you must wield a dirk. Why else must you buy a woman, or contractually force her, to interact with it?”

The two men stood in silence for a long moment, before Zhin inhaled deeply and turned on his heel.

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Valera picked up her plate of food and moved away from her group, ignoring the protests of her field commanders as she decided against sitting with them for breakfast. Cassie, Inara, and the Stone Golem Druah would have to make do without her, Valera decided as she moved through the camp. She approached the small Cutthroat encampment near the Paladins’ current position and sat beside a group of young men and women who were scarfing down their meals over stories.

As soon as the elven warrior was seated, the party fell dead silent.

A brown-furred Tigronish beast across from Valera watched her, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. The Pink-haired girl touched the beasts’ arm and whispered something to her that seemed to sooth her.

“What do you want?” a dark skinned elven boy in the group asked.

“I-I thought I might get to know you lot. I’m Valera, Leader of the Paladins.” she replied, smiling sheepishly.

Members of the group moved away to eat elsewhere. The beast attempted to lead the pink-haired girl away with them, but she refused.

Once Valera and the pink-haired girl were alone, the girl eyed the elf with slit pupils, “Maeve, ‘of Blades’.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you.” Valera smiled, “We’re happy to have you all along with us.”

Maeve shoved a spoonful of porridge into her mouth and mumbled through the food, “We’re happy to get paid.”

“Tell me, Maeve, what is your goal in life?” Valera asked, stirring her own breakfast soup.

Maeve chuckled, “Goal in life? What the hell is that?”

“Oh, you know,” The elf replied, “Where do you think you’ll be in ten years?”

“Dead.” was the girl’s answer through another mouthful of porridge.

“Dead? Why do you say that?”

Maeve shrugged, “Shot, stabbed, hung, OD, curse, whatever happens I guess.”

“Curse? Have you been upsetting gods?” Valera asked, cocking a brow.

Maeve shook her head, “No, no, nothing like that…” She gazed off as she spoke, “My dam was a Tigron, and she loved a human. And then there was me, and the human left. She grew weaker and weaker, and one day she just collapsed and never woke up. My grandmother- the Tigron- told me it was my fault, my mother was cursed. So I guess I’m cursed too. This body doesn’t work, I can’t have kittens, I need to take junk to sleep and even more junk to cure the headaches the first junk gives me, and all that junk will kill my liver faster than the booze I’m on every other night ever will…”

“I’m so sorry.” Valera spoke softly.

Maeve laughed, “Sorry? Don’t be sorry, my life is amazing.”

Valera’s eyes widened, “Amazing? What could possibly be amazing about all of that?”

Maeve jumped to her feet and motioned for Valera to stand with her. Once the elf was standing, Maeve pointed to the Paladins, “What is that, elf?”

“It’s my people, the Paladins.” Valera replied.

“And what do they stand for?”

“We stand for freedom, peace in the Realm, access to magic for all!” Valera’s back straightened a bit as she spoke.

“Okay, say you win this stupid war you think you have a chance of winning, what then? We get magic, then what?” Maeve crossed her arms as she eyed the elf.

“Science will prosper, magic will lead us into a new age of technology and prosperity!” Valera replied proudly.

Maeve snorted, “So after two groups of idiots are done squabbling over a new fancy toy, more toys will be invented. Who’s to say two new groups of idiots won’t fight over that? And when one wins, the winner will make new toys and, oh look, more squabbling. Over and over, always and on.”

Valera frowned, “Well, I guess, but-”

“How long have you been alive, pointy-ear?” Maeve cut her off, “How many pointless squabbles have you seen? Millions die because of two idiots and their groups of idiots? How many?”

Valera stammered as Maeve continued, “You’ve probably been alive centuries. Me? I won’t make it to thirty. You have to care what the future holds, you have to care what is going to happen. Me? Five years ago I was drugged out of my mind in a crystal dance music nightclub- have you ever seen CDMers? They exist as mindless drones like the rest of you during the day, but once the sun sets they-we- would come alive. Then a group of idiots took away the crystals and the music. Back to being mindless drones for us, the man I cared about went back to his family, his military, the group of idiots who took away the music in the first place. Five years later I’m drugged out of my mind in a group of thieves. We steal, we break, we run, and we do it until we die because why not? We’re going to die anyway. I knew that when my mother died, when the little kitten me asked my grandmother if it was my fault and she looked me in the eye and told me ‘yes’. I knew it when my grandmother threw me out because I don’t have fur or claws or a tail. I knew it when my recruiter used me as a bargaining chip to convince a boy my age to join our crew. I knew it when the doctor told me I’d never have kittens- not like I’d want to anyway. We’re going to die, and you elves forget that sometimes. But I know it. We’re going to die, everyone of us, and how would you rather us live? Wasting every breath wondering about the future, or spending every moment living in the present? Some of us don’t get to live centuries, some of us don’t get a future. Maybe you do, but I don’t, so I’m not going to live my life pretending I am.”

Valera bit her lip to hold back her emotions. Every muscle in her body was screaming for her to crouch down to the girl and hug her until she knew she would never be alone again, but Valera was well aware that doing so might result in one of the blades on Maeve’s hip to end up in Valera’s stomach.

Maeve snorted at Valera’s expression of horrified sadness, before the girl took a flask from her pocket, took a swig, and walked off back to her group with no other words.