Yelena

The blood on Virtir’s rapier glistened against the pearl white of the glacial walls that surrounded them. The raised weapon was pointed right at Yelena, and its challenge was clear.

No, Yelena thought, as the initial shock of seeing the hateful Yok’ra dissipated. More than a challenge, this time. She’s announcing that her mark’s life is forfeit. She’d showing me the blade that will end me.

Dimedrious’ hand was already resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Oh, give it a rest, snake-fiend!" he bellowed. "The Prophet herself has spoken! You heard her judgement, and that’s still not enough? You would actually follow us here, of all things?"

Virtir swiped the air with pinpoint accuracy, her thin blade carving through the ice-cold atmosphere and barely making a sound. Yelena barely registered the cut – her blade was nothing more than a red haze. But in the moment her arm moved, she felt the release of power that radiated towards her in a chilling wave.

"I am only sorry more than one had to die this day," Virtir said, her gaze locking with Dimedrious’ focused eyes. "Your carriage driver will not be reporting back to the Proctor."

Virtir’s admission was punctuated by the constant drip of crimson that fell from the tip of her blade onto the pale crumbs of snow below.

Yelena looked on her now as one would look upon a demon that had clawed its way towards her even as she had tried to escape its clutches. Her heart was pounding, knowing that she was but one step away from the talons of The Everloft that raged behind her, waiting. Watching.

It could wait a little longer. She knew from the tone of Virtir’s voice, and the fact that she had trailed them like a shadow, that there was one course now left to them both.

She would not leave Di to face the serpent alone.

"To think you would go this far…: he said to her, incredulous. "You know your place in Caer Argent is forfeit now, don’t you? The gates will remain shut to you forever, and you will be branded as nothing more than a traitor."

Yelena looked to him. His tone was pleading. He was still begging their interloper to see reason, even now.

But Virtir’s demeanor was cool. Straight backed and present, like a trained hunter, she replied with the absolute confidence of a warrior bred for warfare:

"I do the duty even my Proctor has shirked from. I am a blade of Argent just as I always have been, and I know now why the Prophet said the words she did: she wanted me to find you, here, and end your vile spirit before it journeys back to your Hellish domain to slumber and feed. She needed you to die just before you felt the embrace of your dark kin once more."

Once again she brandished the tip of her blade at Yelena, eyes full of hatred and a sense of fanatical duty.

"Beast," she growled. "In the name of Argent and Holy Amarata, I will return your corpse to The Everloft, and give you the final rest you scarcely deserve."

"Not happening," Dimedrious growled back, shaking his head. "I don’t want to kill you, Virtir, but your conviction has left you with madness. You must know this is insanity."

He stepped in front of Yelena, his greatsword raised now. She didn’t even see him draw the scarred blade from his back.

"Yelena," he said. "Go."

She scoffed, "If you think I’m just going to leave you here, Di, you really are a dog-brain."

Yelena unsheathed her sword and assumed her battle stance, holding the blade under arm by her side, ready to swipe at Viritr’s charge this time.But in the back of her own mind still raged the same thought as Di: I don’t want to fight her. She is my Sister, despite it all.

And I don’t even know if I could beat her.

Virtir’s laughter was tinged with the manic dirge of the insane. It cut through Yelena like a knife in her stomach, twisting her insides.

"You need not worry about your hound being harmed," she hissed. "He won’t be here to defend you this time."

"Enough of this!" Dimedrious wailed, stepping forward shoulder first, ready to charge at the cackling Yok’ra. He did not notice the way in which she merely lifted her arm, extended her fingers, and spoke a soft incantation that Yelena felt resonate deep in her bones.

"Di!" she yelled.

Before she even took a step, thin, veiny vines sprouted from Virtir’s fingertips and wrapped themselves around Dimedrious in an instant. He howled in pain as the plants constricted him like coiling cobras, pulsing and strengthening with every move he made to break free. His blade dropped to the snow field with a thud and slowly the vines crept up to cover every part of his body except his snarling maw.

Yelena had already reached him when the last vine was creeping towards his eyes. She drew her sword across one twitching tendril and made a cut – or what she thought was a cut – as in the moment her sword sliced through the vine another simply grew to take its place.

Then her eyes shifted focus as she felt Virtir’s form leap towards her. She had only a moment to turn and block her seeking rapier’s tip with her sword. Still, the force of the impact pushed her back while Dimedrious’ rage-filled bellows never ceased.

"Glancer!" he barked. "You? All this time?"

"Heel for now, dog," Vitir spat out the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were only for Yelena, and she brought up her left hand, still shaking with unrestrained power, for her opponent to see.

"A gift," she hissed. "A boon from the Prophet that seeks your death. I knew, Yelena. I knew the moment I awoke with this power that my path had been chosen for me. I understood what it meant: to defeat monsters, one must become one with the dread powers themselves. No more sparring. No intervention from your precious mongrel Captain. This, Yelena, marks your end!"

She thrust her arm out and again sprayed a miasma of quivering vines towards her foe. Yelena had anticipated the magic. She rolled out of the way of the reaching plants and drew her blade in an arc as she rose, meeting Virtir’s lightning quick strike that was aimed at her jugular.

She stepped back, panting, watching the snake’s hand pulse with energy – her fingers shaking as they charged more foul magic.

She felt the black mass inside her own chest react to the energy – the will of the Glance that could corrupt even the most noble of souls.

"Virtir," she panted. "Is this truly what you want?"

"This has nothing to do with what I want!" she screamed. "This is what must happen. You must die, fiend. And I am to be the one to deliver your deathblow. I have seen it."

Trying to maintain her balance, seeing Di struggle against the constricting vines out the corner of her eye, and feeling the watching eyes of The Everloft on them both, Yelena looked at her Sister with the same mix of sorrow and fear that had ruled her entire life on the surface of Averix.

"So be it."

She felt the impact of Virtir’s blade even as she flashed the flat edge of her own sword to block it again, and this time the Yok’ra drew the nails of her free hand across her face, cutting deep gashes into her skin. Yelena pivoted and turned, twisting her sword in the air and thrusting for the snake-woman’s exposed midrift. But the fury of the verminous captain was matched once again by her speed. She knocked Yelena’s blade aside with little effort and sliced down with her rapier, cutting a neat gouge into Yelena’s shoulder.

Yelena staggered back, gripping the wound, seeing her own blood come away on her gauntlet. Virtir lurched forward, aiming another thrust directly at Yelena’s skull. She barely had time to sidestep the attack – feeling another laceration burn just above her right ear - while her sword arm struck out at Virtir’s right leg. She caught her just above her shin, and an animalistic scream of fury escaped from the Yok’ra’s mouth.

But the strike was a nick, at most. Virtir’s armor had barely been touched. Yelena knew the snake was furious only at having been hit, not that any real damage had been caused.

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Yelena kept her blade up, twisting it with both hands and assuming a defensive posture that could translate into a sharp thrust at any moment. She aimed her blade just above Virtir’s eyes, and her opponent stared back at her, unblinking.

The strike came – the Viper’s tooth was bared and trailing towards her. Yelena’s blade twirled in her hand and came down on the rapier with all her strength in a blow that should have disarmed her opponent. Instead, Yelena felt the sting of thorns smack across her cheek – drawing blood and a scream of agony from her lips as she fell against the glacier wall. She watched the sickening vine that Virtir had summoned retract back into her hand while her sword arm spun her rapier in the air and arced down towards Yelena’s skull.

She threw herself at Virtir’s feet and knocked her down, administering a swift kick to her face as she tried to rise and strike back. This time Yelena was quicker. She raised her sword and smashed it into Virtir’s kneecap with enough force that the snake’s armor plating was split open and Yelena cut a deep gash into her exposed skin, tearing away glistening green scales and withdrawing her blood smeared sword as Virtir staggered back.

Rage burned in her eyes. The fury of a berserker directed at the root of the all the world’s woes.

"You would dare to draw my blood?" she hissed, crouching low and grimacing as her bleeding knee felt the cold, stinging kiss of the snow. "You aren’t worthy to cut my flesh, you filthy little beast."

Yelena felt the blood trickle from her cheek wound. Splinters were still embedded there, her body’s crimson lifeblood flowing between their spikes. She tasted the running stream that flowed from her wound and felt her breathing quicken. Something behind her eyes was looking at Virtir too, now, urging her to strike with more power. The power she knew was waiting behind just a fancy – just a simple inclination of her being.

She blocked it out.

"It’s not too late to surrender," she told the panting snake.

Virtir’s reply was hissed through her flickering tongue.

"Feel free."

Another volley of vines shot from her hand, but as Yelena braced herself to avoid them she saw that they weren’t directed towards her at all, but at her ensnared friend.

She flew towards him and cut through each vine that trailed towards their target, feeling thorns from their sliced stalks cut into the skin of her neck and navel as they trailed passed her. Then, suddenly, she felt a stab of agony pierce her side.

She looked down to see Virtir’s blade embedded in her left arm and gasped as the snake twisted the rapier before withdrawing and spilling a pint of Yelena’s blood from the perforation.

She fell to the ground and clutched her open wound, unable to stop the pulsing fluid from seeping through her gauntleted fingers. As the pain from the serpent’s kiss soared through her entire left side, she felt again that she was that isolated girl on the floor of the monastery training halls, watching this thing of impossible speed and vicious guile tower over her, her eyes finding any and all weaknesses she could exploit. As her rapier came down again, it was all Yelena could do to raise her sword and meet its strike, seeing those same eyes brimming with the knowledge of victory behind the two clashing blades.

"Weak," the snake spat. "A shield more than a sword, still. Is this really how you want to die?"

Those same words echoed in her mind. The thing watching behind her eyes was swelling with anticipation. She wasn’t just fighting against Virtir anymore. Now, she was trying to keep the larval demon on its thin leash.

"Lena!" Dimedrious bellowed – his shout somehow distant, detached from the reality of her fight. "Stop holding back! You have to kill her!"

"Yes," the snake whispered, her rapier inching closer to Yelena’s face, sword arm pushing the blade down as her foot kept her prey pinned to the ground. "Show me all your little tricks. At least die with some dignity."

As she felt the red haze of fury bleed from behind her retinas, Yelena balled her left hand into a fist and struck at Virtir’s still bleeding knee. The Yok’ra wailed and flew back, and Yelena bore down on her, trying to wrest her the rapier from her hand.

Pain shot through her again as she struck the rapier across the snowfield. This time, it had come from below, and the world slowed to a crawl as her eyes slowly lowered and beheld the vine that had pierced her midriff.

As she vomited blood down her chest, she felt herself lifted into the air, the vine coiling round her waist and squeezing it till she knew it was about to burst. With no more effort than a dog tossing aside its chew toy, Virtir threw Yelena across the glacier, trailing an arc of blood across the sky. She hit the ground inches from The Everloft’s entrance, the tendrils above doing nothing but prospecting the battle as it entered its apparent climax.

She felt the blood-streaked vine retract from her midriff and instead curl around her throat. Virtir slowly walked towards her, ignoring Dimedrious’ cries, and kicked her downed opponent’s sword away.

"Even in the end," she said. "You can't save your friends. And now, they have all abandoned you now, haven’t they? You are still alone. Still weak."

As blood seeped from her innards and pooled beneath her back, the thoughts that swirled in her mind could now barely be called cognizant.

I’m dying.

"You never deserved to stand beside any of us," she heard Virtir say.

Her thoughts buzzed in her head while her eyes struggled to keep blinking.

She’s right.

I never helped anyone.

I let Cynthia die

Agathae turned her back on me.

Di? He only ever cared because he was blindly in love. But on that day in Yarruck, even he was terrified.

She watched Virtir aim her rapier’s tip right above her throat, and she knew she could let it end here. Let the snake-fiend have her victory. Let her carry out the duty she longed so much to do.

But then, another voice found its way to the forefront of her mind. The hallowed words of the ancient Proctor Azran, shrouded in mystery, yet certain in their message:

Death is not an option. Your demise would only allow this spirit to seek a new host. Perhaps even a stronger one. Make no mistake, Yelena, right now you are both its prison and its potential for freedom.

It was a half-truth. She could feel the claws of the being raking the door of her mind as Azran’s thought surfaced. But it wasn’t forcing itself to work through her, this time. It was waiting.

She had to turn the key.

Virtir’s silvered blade glistened above her throat.

You hate me and yet you need me, don’t you?She asked the will behind her eyes. And I hate you, but I can’t just let you go out there.

Virtir’s blade came down, both hands pushing it by the pommel for the killing blow.

So come on then, she thought, feeling her mind loosen with simply the mere act of thinking the words. But this time, I’ll be the one in control.

When Virtir felt her blade strike true, the smile that stretched across her weary face was akin to that of a child at suppertime. Yet, the resistance she felt against her rapier’s tip did not have the consistency of flesh at all.

It was the cold steel of Yelena’s gauntlet.

Her eyes narrowed to see her target bathed in a golden aura – a radiance gushing forth from her wounded belly and wrapping around her hand which held her weapon at bay. She shifted, trying to dislodge herself, and suddenly felt a rush of force that sent her skidding across the snow plain and almost into the blackened maw of the great abyss itself. She jerked her head up, unbelieving, and saw the impossible: the beast rose up without a groan, or even a wince. She stood like it was no effort at all.

From his vantage point, Dimedrious inhaled an intake of chill air, snapping at the vines that still tried to plunge themselves into his mouth. He saw a figure that vaguely resembled Yelena rise from the ground, surrounded by threads of golden light. He saw these twisting threads spread themselves across her body and face, and where once there were open, bleeding wounds that scarred her features, now there was nothing but bare flesh. It was as though her skin had just knit itself together again.

As Yelena’s eyes opened, she felt it: the strength of something alien flow over her. But as she had commanded, it was her eyes she was seeing through this time. True, she felt the presence behind her, she felt its overwhelming drive to crush the snake that she had in her sights, but she tempered its fury with clear commands: Heal. Defend.

She felt the soothing touch of the golden aura emanate all around her. It was like the warmth of a caring father. Then the words came again:

Guardian’s Ward (LVL I/V)

Injury Restoration: 100%

HP Restoration: +5/sec

She could understand these words this time. True, her wounds had been ‘healed’ by the vile magic that now seeped from her. She felt stronger. Faster. But she stayed cautious. This power had brought her back from the very brink of death, but it did not make her invulnerable.

As she motioned towards her blade and felt it fly back to her hand like a magnetized piece of metal, more inscriptions pierced the inside of her eyes with the stabbing sensation of knives being driven into the back of her head.

Profession Guardian Level 1 (EXP: 0/100) Sub-Class NULL Points to Distribute 0 HP 20/25 GLANCE 5/15

Profession Skillset

Battlecry NULL Searing Strike I/V Undaunted NULL Rally NULL Guardian's Ward I/V

She breathed deep the ice cold of the air, mixed with the cascading warmth of the power that she now felt flow through her veins. This was what she was. This was what she was supposed to be.

Virtir watched Yelena assume her battle stance again, her eyes staring unblinkingly as the honeyed tendrils traced her skin and repaired all damage they found like slippery little healing maidens. She could not control the chattering of her gnashing fangs in her mouth.

"There you are, Yelena" she said, drawing her rapier back and readying herself for the fight against her real foe. She felt her tail twist unconsciously as she beheld the thing aim its sword directly at her skull. The prologue had just concluded. Now, the true test Amarata had given her was about to begin.

"Grant me strength, Chainbreaker," she whispered as she launched herself at Yelena again, lunging for her golden-wreathed throat.

For now, I face a creature of The Everloft.