Chapter 34: Of Memories

"Repeat after me, little one: 'Exitus Acta Probat' - The Outcome Justifies the Deed." - Instructor Palla, of the Vindicare Temple

Yang gave a cry of effort as her fist connected with the sandbag, the tape on her knuckles torn by the constant assault and her unyielding aura. Wiping the sweat off her brow, she grinned. It felt good to be active again. It had been a month since Shao-la, and two weeks since her lungs patched themselves up.

Resetting herself, she struck again and again, her fists a blur of lethal force. The bag shook and rattled on its chain, suffering her blows without complaint. The training gym was empty, just the way she liked it. Although... not so much a 'gym' as it was a spare nook where the Woadian militia veterans kept their lifting gear. Only a single flickering bulb kept the worn barbells and bench-press illuminated, their shadows playing against the walls. A few extinguished candles sat in the corner below a list of names etched on the metal walls. Yang didn't know if they were family from Woadia or fallen comrades.

It was the peak of the Ascendant Dawn's night-cycle, and most of her friends slept in the barracks. But that was for the better. Here, she could work out in peace, away from the increasingly wondrous stares turned her way.

Plus, after a grueling psychic training session with Weiss, working out was always the best way to unwind. She hadn't made much progress, even if she was able to open a connection to the warp without much effort. Doing so never failed to set her teeth on edge, but having her friend help and guide her along made it easier to bear. Ever since the end of their fight (and Weiss got some decent sleep), her spirits had improved, asking Yang questions about her life in the Imperium, studying a large, black-skinned tome or scribbling on a notepad. They'd even chatted about life on Remnant. It was nice to hear about her friend's lives, even though not being able to share in them sunk her heart into her stomach.

Yes, Weiss was… tolerable now, even if a dusting of frost had surfaced between them. Yang remembered her friend's threats, the whorling abyss of her aura as her fists rang against it. She wasn't done with her though, not by a long shot. I'll just have to train harder, she thought, her fist smacking the sandbag hard enough to bounce it off the ceiling.

But the Inquisitor was not what kept Yang awake, what sent her to the training gym… no, it was the nightmares. Though Weiss' glyphs helped, the whispers in her dreams had returned. Horrid, entrancing, blood-tongued whispers. She took a swing from her canteen, gagging on the staid taste.

"Feh," she said, spitting. Everything tastes the same. I can't even remember the last time I ate real food! Just the thought made her stomach rumble. There were rumors the Ranshan civvies managed to grill some rats, but Yang was never close enough to the hold to get one. She sighed, looking at her hands. While her knuckles were unharmed, the wrappings were tattered and falling apart.

She searched her short's pockets for her tape before realizing she'd left it in her rucksack. Turning to retrieve it, she heard the grinding screech of the bulkhead opening. But when the rusted door fell open, its frame was empty.

"Hello?" She asked, a sound that filled the small room, echoing against steel walls.

"Ah. My bad." There was soft click, and Amat materialized in the training gym, lithe muscles revealing themselves from nothingness. His rifle hung from his back. "We meet again, Yang." Laughing, she gave him a wave.

"Hey man! You trying to scare the shit out of me?"

"Not really, sorry. Forgot that I have it on all the time." He stood in the doorway, still wearing his red-visored mask. Resting a hand on her hip and waving him forward with the other, she gave him a sly grin.

"Step into my office! I didn't know you were on board. Well that, or you'd forgotten about me." He chuckled at that, resting his rifle against the wall as he entered the gym, shutting the door behind him.

"Definitely haven't forgotten. Just trying to find time in my… busy schedule."

"Really? Busy schedule?" Yang asked. He shrugged, taking a seat on one of the benches. "Playing up the whole 'mysterious assassin' bit, I see," she said, still smiling.

"I am indeed an assassin. Trained on Holy Terra by the priests of the Vindicare Temple, a branch of the Officio Assassinorum." He stopped, looking at Yang to gauge her response. She didn't have one,

"Well… shit, man," she said eventually. "We're getting right into it then?" If he's gonna lay all the cards on the table like that, he's more curious than I thought! Amat nodded. Laughing, Yang scooped up her rucksack.

"Alright! I like the attitude. Normally, this game is called 'Never Have I Ever', and requires a lot more booze, but we'll have to make some adjustments." She fished around in her rucksack before her fingers clasped around a stoppered hip flask.

"I… don't follow."

"Don't worry about it, buddy." She swirled the flask around with a grin, treasuring the full sloshing sound it made. "Courtesy of the Major. Since you want to be all stubborn about your mask, this will have to do. You listening?" Amat nodded. "Alright. Before you ask a question, you have to take a drink. One drink means one question, and the game goes until the flask is empty. Or I get bored."

"You're serious," he said.

"Completely," Yang whispered, eyes wide with mock gravity. "Since you already laid out the whole 'who you are and what you do' question, that means I'm behind. Bottoms up!" She took a drink, savoring the fruity tinge of the Major's finest. "Your turn," she said, handing him the flask. He looked at it. Then her. Then back to the flask.

"Is this... amasec?" He asked.

"Maybe," she said with a mischievous wink. "Take a sip and find out." He took the flask from her, looking it over with reverent care. After a few seconds, he withdrew an apparatus (a fancy-looking straw) and stuck it into the open neck. Yang threw her hands up in exasperation. "Damn it, Amat! You're impossible." She was hoping to at least get a glimpse, but her own curiosity would go unfulfilled for now.

"I make do." He sampled the brew, and was immediately wracked by a coughing fit. Yang erupted with laughter, clutching her stomach as he pounded on his chest. "What… what in the name of the Emperor?" Wiping a tear from her eye, she gave him a nudge.

"What you've never had alcohol before?"

"I-" he coughed again, unable to form a complete sentence. "No! Not that can I remember! You drink this?" He asked, holding the flask as if it would bite him. "On purpose?"

"It's an acquired taste." Shrugging, Yang beamed at him. "But them's the rules." Sighing, Amat capped the flask and tossed it back to her. Another rumbling cough took him. "Alright then you party animal, what's your question?" She asked. He considered this for a moment before meeting her leering grin.

"How do you know the Lady Inquisitor? I know your first meeting was not in Elodia's orbit." Oh, yeesh. Her smile faltered, and she rubbed the back of her head, letting strands of golden hair fill her fingers. "Is… something wrong?" Yes.

"No… it's just…" Yang sighed. Should I tell him? She weighed her options. He already knows I'm a psyker and he's still curious. Can I trust him? Will he think I'm crazy? "I don't think you'll believe me if I told you. Sometimes I don't even believe it myself."

"I've seen a lot, Yang." Amat said. "Whatever you say won't surprise me." He coughed into his hand again, despite his mask blocking the way. Watching him, a half-smile reached her lips. She shook her head, mind made up. For better or worse, she'd trust him. He helped save my life. Being honest and open is the least I can do. Once more, she reached into her rucksack.

"You say that… but I'll just show you instead." Finding the worn leather edges of her wallet, she removed the photo of team RWBY, handing it to Amat between two fingers. He took it in his hands, slowly, reverently. Once he realized what he was holding, the picture started to shake.

"I was wrong," he said with a weak chuckle. "This… I did not expect this. That cannot be my Lady."

"I've thought the same," Yang said, the words as heavy as an orbital barrage. "Her name is Weiss Schnee. That," she said, "is my sister Ruby, and this is my best friend, Blake Belladonna. Secretly a faunus," she said, lump-throated nostalgia threatening to swallow her words. It was all too much for Amat.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Around eight months ago, I lived on world called Remnant." She waved his question away before he could ask it. "It didn't belong to the Imperium. In fact, it's not even in the galaxy. At least, that's what Weiss said." Amat looked at her. "Ah… shit. I just realized that raised a lot more questions than it answered."

"That's quite an understatement. Emperor," he whispered.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Anyways, Weiss was never the friendly sort, but we got her to open up after awhile. She fell pretty hard for my sister." Yang shuddered. Now there's an understatement. Weiss' love for Ruby was cute on Remnant, but like everything else, the Imperium had morphed it into a twisted parody of its former self. "Together, we saved the world. Hard to believe at the time, especially since Ruby…" She swallowed, and forced herself to say the words, "Since Ruby sacrificed herself to make it happen. To me, the world just looked like it was crumbling. Throne," she said, not realizing the words that tumbled out of her lips, "we were just kids." They were quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry about your sister," Amat said, breaking the silence. "I don't know what kind of threats you faced, but to put such a burden on you all… you must have been exemplary warriors." Yang chuckled, punching him on the shoulder.

"You've seen half of us in action already. Not much of a guess on your part. But," she said, turning the flask over in her hands, "thanks, Amat." He hunched over in his seat.

"Of course. It's still a lot to take in, though." His head tilted towards Yang, the questions palpable on his invisible face. "Wait… then are you the same age as the Inquisitor?"

"If you think you're gonna sneak an extra question in on me, think again," Yang said with a smirk. Amat shook his head, his voice tinged with mock disappointment. "If you wanna know, drink and you'll find out," Yang said. His exasperated groan was enough to conjure a grin. "Hey man, I didn't make the rules."

"I remember otherwise," he countered, pointing.

"Eh, details," She said, her throwing her hands up in defeat with a wide smile. "But since it's my game, you'll just have to suffer." Amat said nothing. "You know, I have the distinct impression you're rolling your eyes at me," Yang said, trying to pierce the impenetrable crimson of his visor. "It's kinda creepy that you won't take that mask off. It's hard to get a bead on you when I don't even know what you look like."

"Maybe that's my intention," Amat suggested, his voice a rumble as it slid from his mask.

"You know, that'll be my question, smart-ass... why the mask?" Yang asked. Jabbing a finger at him, her lips parted into a confident smirk. "It's coming off one of these days. No secrets for you, assassin-man."

"That's hardly fair, considering everything you just told me," he said. "You've heaved everything I've known for the past few years into turmoil. I have questions as well." Yang considered that, and met his gaze. They held the look for a long moment before glancing down at the flask that sat between them.

As one, they launched forward, hands outstretched.

"It's mine!" Yang cried. She was faster, but Amat was closing in, and she only managed to knock it aside. Rolling, he leapt to his fours before throwing a vicious kick at Yang.

She caught his foot and hurled him to the other side of the gym. Tumbling and rolling, he skidded to a halt against the wall. They were silent for a moment before they erupted into laughter.

"By the Emperor you're fast." Amat said, staring at the single light that hung above them. Scooping up her flask, she went to help him up. "Strong too. Emperor," he wheezed.

"How's the floor taste? Like defeat?" She said, beaming. His hand fell across his mask in mock shame. Giggling, she helped him to his feet. Amat accepted her help gracefully.

"Seriously though, you are determined when you want to be."

"Damn straight," Yang said, taking a swig from the flask. She settled herself on the lifting bench, before crossing her legs and folding her hands in her best impression of the classic 'heiress' pose. "Now, do tell Amat... why are you so adamant about leaving your mask on?" Sighing, he leaned against the wall.

"It isn't much different than the answer I gave you in Shao-la."

"Ah," she said, "but now you've told me you're an assassin for the vindy-something temple or whatever. You need to elaborate."

"Fair enough," he admitted. "The mask is a reflection of my mission. I remove it when I've completed it, and not before. When the Lady Inquisitor acquired me, I donned it. It's been on ever since."

"Yeesh," Yang said, recoiling. Now there's some dedication. "You must reek under there."

"I wouldn't know," Amat replied. "Although my wargear has a complete suite of hygiene functions, so it shouldn't be too bad."

"Damn. Your temple really thought the whole thing through."

"Of course. One member of our order waited on his prey's arrival for six years. Unmoving. Perfectly still." His head turned towards her. "Wouldn't do to have his teeth rotting out of his mouth, would it?" Yang was still trying to process the whole 'six years' comment. That's... that's...

"That's insane! How can any person sit still for that long?" She blurted, the flask in her hand long forgotten.

"Patience. Diligence. Duty," Amat said, the words rehearsed and well-practiced. "All operative Vindicares are able to enter a trance of sorts. Our bodies shut down. We require little sustenance and less air. And like that... we wait."

"Terra..." She whispered. "You can do it too?" He nodded.

"Of course." Yang shuddered. Staying still for so long... She knew she'd break down after minutes, let alone years.

"You really don't half-ass the whole 'assassin' thing," Yang breathed.

"It's who I am." Amat said, resting his head against the wall. "There is no one better." Whistling, Yang tossed him the flask. Catching it, he appraised it with surprise.

"You're not going to fight me for it?" He asked. Yang sniffed, eyes looking elsewhere.

"I slipped a few extra questions in. It's your turn." Chuckling, he stuck his straw into the flask.

He took a drink, shaking his head as he did so. "Emperor, that's nasty," he said with an audible grimace. Yang made mocking pouting noises, wiping away imaginary tears with the back of her hand. "How mature." She laughed.

"Alright, assassin-man, hit me with your best shot." Nodding, he considered his next question for a few moments.

"Your powers… this… aura. What is it?"

"Alright, fair question." With a wicked grin, she unleashed it. Her hair leapt from her shoulders, swelling into a rippling gold inferno. Amat stepped back, a whispered breath barely escaping his mask. "This is my aura. On Remnant, every being with a soul has one, although its power can vary greatly."

"It's amazing," Amat said, stepping closer. "Your hair... it's on fire, but you don't burn."

"It's not actual fire, dummy," Yang said, giggling. "Here, see for yourself." She extended a lock of flickering hair to him. He wavered, reaching out before retreating. "Oh come on, dude." Her hand shot forward, grabbing his own and pressing her hair into it. He was silent for a moment.

"Emperor."

"Cool, huh? Now be careful. I take my hair very seriously." He sifted it between his fingers, watching the ghost-flames play over his hand.

"This is your soul?" He asked, incredulous.

"Now normally I'd make you drink, but since I'm feeling generous, I'll give you that one for free." He huffed at that, still entranced by her hair. "It's the expression of my soul. The balance of both light and dark that exists within me. As a huntress, I'm able to weaponize it."

"Weaponize?" Amat asked. Smiling, she took her hair back, combing it back into place.

"Of course. You saw what I did to those traitor marines. With a single thought, I can conduct my aura wherever I choose. My weapons, my armor, my body. It protects me," she said simply.

"That's incredible. You'd lit the whole street up, but I couldn't tell that it was your hair... I thought it was some kind of psychic power." Disengaging her aura, she let her hair rest, settling into its usual mass of curls.

"They're related," Yang admitted. "Although I'm still unclear on exactly how. Weiss hasn't told me too much."

"Weiss?" Amat asked before settling himself on the bench next to her. "Oh… right. Although... you both come from the same world. It makes sense you'd share a similar power. Emperor," he said again, sighing. "It appears as though I'm in over my head." Laughing, Yang jabbed him with her elbow.

"You got that right, buddy."

"However… I haven't seen the Inquisitor's hair glow like that before," He said, turning to face her. She smiled, shaking her head. Yang never imagined she'd have to explain aura to any one in the Imperium.

"Well, aura manifests itself in different ways depending on who you are. It's what makes you unique. My best friend lived most of her life in the shadows, and could conjure a shade of herself to help her in battle. The ultimate expression of that uniqueness is called your semblance."

"Semblance?" Amat asked, his voice tinged with confusion. "So... your hair is your semblance?" Laughing, Yang shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. If you want to find out, you should drink, buddy! My generosity's expired. Although," she said, taking a drink. "It's my turn again." His head lolled against his shoulders..

"I guess it's too late for me to argue the point."

"Got that right." She relished the amasec's fire as it slid into her stomach, the taste of generic fruit on her tongue. Grinning at Amat, she decided there were worse ways to spend her time. "Alright. How long have you been an assassin?" The question didn't faze him. In fact, he seemed confused.

"I… don't understand." Yup. Definitely confused.

"Oh come on, it's not that hard. When did you sign up for this temple thing? I mean, an assassin-temple is kinda weird, but I guess that's par for the course in the Imperium." He folded his hands together, staring at them intently.

"I've… always been a part of the temple."

"Really?" Yang prodded. "Nothing?" He shook his head.

"There is training. The tests, the drills, the prayers, the chants, the lessons. There is the conclusion of my lessons. Then there is the Lady Inquisitor." His red visor sank to the floor before meeting Yang's gaze. "There is nothing else." Yang was taken aback by his response.

"Did they brainwash you or something?"

"All assassins of the Vindicare Temple undergo hypno-indoctrination every two years," Amat offered. "Barring assignments and missions, of course. Not quite 'brainwashing', but a close enough analog I suppose." She shuddered again, once again facing down another hidden horror of the Imperium. She expected nothing less, but his acceptance of it was the worst part.

"And you don't care?" She demanded.

"It is... who I am," he said, his words obdurate, their footing ponderous and hesitant. "I serve the Emperor and the Imperium. Although… the Lady Inquisitor is very insistent I remain at her side." Standing, he parsed the training gym, walking over to the small shrine of names. "It's been four years since I've seen the Temple."

"It's been a long time since your last one," Yang realized.

"I've been suffering headaches," Amat allowed, his hand running under a name etched upon the wall. "I recall only a single word not taught to me by the Temple or the Lady Inquisitor… Epitaphum." Turning, a half of his visor peered over his shoulder. "I don't know what it is. What it means. He rubbed at the back of his head, kneading the latches of his mask. "I don't know what will happen once my mission ends, but I've been finding a return to Terra," he paused, fingers running over each other as he searched for the right word. "Uninviting."

"Well," Yang started, caught off-balance by his explanation. "I was gonna ask what your real name is, but I guess that would be pointless, huh?" She said with a weak chuckle. It was all so tough to wrap her head around. Amat seemed so… normal for what he was. Where he lives.

"I'm afraid so. Amat's the first 'name' I've ever worn. It would be a truthful answer."

"Alright, alright, I think I'm getting the jist of your temple." And it gives me the massive fucking creeps. "Here," she said, tossing him the flask. "Your turn. I'll do my best not to be so depressing."

"Very well." Drinking the amasec, he suppressed a small shudder, muscles rippling under the soft synskin.

"Doing a little better, buddy." Yang said, beaming as her eyes parsed the assassin.

"It's still vile. I've... adjusted." She stuck her tongue out, and he dismissed her taunt with a wave of his hand. "Very well. If you and the Inquisitor grew up on the same planet, how did you come across the Imperium? And why does she appear so much older than you if you attended school together?"

"That's two questions assassin-man," Yang pointed out. Amat took another drink in response. Whistling in approval, she gave him a thumbs up. "Look at you! Little more practice, and you can join the big leagues."

"I didn't do that for fun, Yang." Rolling her eyes, she acquiesced.

"Alright, don't get your panties in a wad." He cocked his head, thrown by the expression. "Never mind. Now, everything I've told you… it's been pretty crazy so far, right?"

"Like I said before - that's an understatement," he replied.

"Come on Amat, I've got to make things suspenseful, don't I?" He chuckled, and she joined him. She liked his laugh. It made the horror stories that spilled out from his mask seem small and insignificant. "Well, to put things bluntly... I died." He considered this in silence, as he was wont to do.

"Seriously?"

"As the grave." She snickered to herself. Not her best, but it was serviceable. At least she could laugh at it all. Either way, it was lost on Amat, who did his best to steady himself on a rack of barbells.

"How is that possible? You must be mistaken."

"I'm not. In fact, when Weiss told me, I had the same reaction." Running a hand through her hair, she leaned back on her seat, studying the rivets in the ceiling. "I appeared out of the blue on some random world. Woadia. Just…" she waved her hand, "woke up. Like I'd been sleeping. But I wasn't in Vale anymore. I wasn't even on Remnant."

"You don't remember being taken anywhere?" Amat asked. She shook her head.

"Nope. Nothing. I did my thing for awhile, doing my best to take everything in stride." She sighed. "I'm in over my head," she said, smiling at Amat. "I thought I was living out some bizarre punishment. And then I met Weiss."

"She told you of your demise."

"She went to my funeral, Amat!" Yang said, throwing her hands up. "Do you realize how insane that sounds? She screamed when she saw me. And then I remembered. It wasn't more than a hazy dream." She huffed. "My own... Epitaphum. White Fang agents… terrorists," she supplied, "they drugged me up and jumped me in an alley." She'd never said it out loud before, and doing so made her skin crawl.

"And then you woke up," he said, disbelief weighing down his words.

"And then I woke up," Yang said. "I know how it sounds. But I'm not lying to you," she continued, turning her head to look at him. "That's not how I roll. Plus, teasing you is fun enough."

"You don't strike me as a deceiver, Yang. It's just that it's a very… fantastical story."

"Don't I know it," she said, smirking. "I'm just trying to answer your questions, here."

"It's appreciated, but two drinks means two answers," he said, his finger tapping the flask's stopper.

"Damn," Yang said, snapping her fingers, "you caught me." They shared a brief chuckle. "What was it again?"

"Are you and… Weiss the same age? My Lady never speaks of her youth or where she's from. The reasoning seems all too clear now, but I know she must be ancient. Her face does not show it, but I've been trained to notice things about the way a person conducts themselves. The Inquisitor walks as though the weight of eons is on her shoulders." Yang shivered at his words. They were a sentiment that mirrored hers almost a hundred percent. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You must have had a good teacher then." Amat cocked his head once more. "Weiss lived a lot longer than I did. The last birthday she remembers on Remnant was her sixty-first. I died when I was twenty-two."

"Then she died as well," he asked.

"Everyone dies, Amat," Yang replied, the corner of her lips turned into a knowing smirk. He sighed, resting his face in his palm, a reaction that brought her a touch of mirth.

"You know what I meant."

"I do, but since I wasn't exactly around, I'm not sure. She doesn't remember either. What she knows is that she woke up much younger than she remembered, on some random planet in the Segmentum Pacificus."

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised any more," Amat said, shaking his head. "The dead living once more, a human planet that's not in the Imperium, a mysterious power, age reversal…" He trailed off, staring up at the squat ceiling. "It's quite a lot to take in."

"I know it is," Yang conceded. "But it feels good to share." Sitting up, she tossed her roll of tape at him. It bounced off his head, and he caught it in an unflinching hand. "So thanks for coming by. It's nice to talk to someone about all this stuff. Besides just Weiss, I mean. It's liberating." He returned her tape to her.

"I'm glad you think so. You've been… quite enlightening."

"Oh, so you didn't come to just ogle at me in my workout clothes?" Yang teased, her lips turned into leering, knowing smile.

"I… what?" She neglected to mention the opposite had been the real case.

"I mean, I don't blame you, but covering it up by trying to play my game?" She clucked her tongue. "That's low, man." Chuckling, Amat recovered his rifle, slinging it across his shoulder.

"Well, at least I didn't accept your invitation to spar," he said. "I would hate to damage your over-inflated ego." Laughing, Yang leapt to her feet.

"Oh, you've done it now, Amat!" Cracking her knuckles, she advanced on him. "Come on, don't run! How about a first-hand aura demonstration?" Instead of replying, he returned her flask, tossing it over his shoulder as his other hand fell on the bulkhead. She caught it effortlessly.

"I'm afraid I have to depart for now." Slouching, Yang crossed her arms.

"Riiiiiiight. Busy schedule and all." He nodded.

"I could use some time to meditate on your responses. You've given me... a lot to think about." Yang blinked.

"No more questions before you go?" I didn't scare him off, did I? He hesitated, his foot stepping back to face her before returning to its place.

"I have many questions, but I need to figure out exactly what they are," he said, his smile invisible. "Although I almost forgot… I wanted you to have this." Unpacking a slim sheet of paper from his belt, he handed it to her. It was rumpled, frayed, and carefully folded. Yang opened it, and what she found delighted her. It was the prayer-sheet she'd found on Shao-la, now complete with an illustration. It bore the little girl they'd met, eyes closed in graceful benediction as she looked out over her the reconstruction of her city.

"This is… very good," Yang said, her finger tracing the miniature ink scaffolding. "They didn't teach this at the Temple, did they?"

"No," Amat admitted. "It's my own doing. My own prayer to Shao-la, and the civilians we found. Rescued."

"Thank you." His head dipped in acknowledgement.

"I know that flask still has another few games in it. Save it, would you? I think I'd like to do this again." He opened the bulkhead, and it creaked under the sudden movement.

"Me too. You might be good for now, but I have one last question." He paused, his foot hovering over the doorframe. "What's the real reason you decided to find me?"

"You make my head hurt." He tapped a button on his wrist and vanished before her eyes.

Yang blew a strand of woven gold out of her eyes. Men, she thought with a grin. Endlessly fascinating, endlessly mysterious… endlessly dense.

A/N: A fun little chat between a couple of badasses. :) Hope you guys enjoyed! Remember, if you have comments, questions, or concerns, leave a review or PM me! Always happy to answer your questions.

I have to say, it feels like I've gotten a bunch of new readers recently. Always makes me happy to see new faces around here! :D

Review Replies:

Heitomos: You wrote a mini-fic? Haha, I'd love to see that some day!

reality deviant: Thanks, dude!

The Walrus of Eden: Now that's something I haven't heard before… how interesting.

DanAbnettFan1997: I really don't understand how Blake can be Maion… Maion is her own person, an OC, yet descended from a Remnanite. Perhaps the Soul-Wielder is Blake, but I guess it all remains to be seen.

Guest: My thoughts precisely (regarding screwing with people). Thanks for your kind words!

Kiyoushu: Hahahaha now that would be something, wouldn't it? :D You make me blush with all your praise.

OBSERVER01: It's certainly possible… I wonder what's gonna happen?

Scot911: Well put! Time will tell if you're correct or not… or if I've even decided to answer the question. :)

Xyston: Thanks so much! I'm so thrilled you're enjoying it!

ZalrokCSoulDeath: Thanks for your praise, but I have no idea what "Really sad about Daniel dying from Cyndago, he was cool and awesome and one of the best guys. Poor Mark…" means...

Legion of Misfits: Thank you!

coalface: Nora would certainly make quite an… impression among the eldar, wouldn't she?

snoogenz: Remember, the Soul-Wielder is not CONFIRMED to be Blake, but she's still on the table.

OnyxIdol: It's possible!

mr. anonymous: Thanks for all the info! I figured the Tou'Her deserve a bit of a break, being the weirdos that they are. But yeah, I'm working through the series right now… not a huge fan, I'll admit.

Mintskittle: Hey, cool theory! Glad you're investing so much thought into my little fic. :)

Guest: Thanks so much for giving me a try! I'll do my best to keep living up to your expectations. :D

orion0905: Thanks, dude! Always cool having new readers!

soupie13941: Hahaha I'm flattered! Black Library, take note… But seriously, glad you're enjoying it so much. As for your own writing, you just have to practice. Only way it'll get done!

Gafgar: Yes, the Il-Kaithe hardliners are frothing at the mouth over it all. :)

goldfencer: Thanks so much for stopping by! :D Cool theory, I'll admit!

Nemris: All will be revealed in time… :D Thanks for your reviews!

LordGhostStriker: Now that would be kick-ass. Thanks for dropping all those reviews!