When I was training to become a healer, I asked what the most painful injury a human being could sustain was.

Well...without dying, that is.

My master, Aarn McMurdah, had disapproved of my morbid curiosity, but answered anyway.

It varies from person to person, but my bet would be anything involving the hand, he had said, applying another bandage to a patient, There's a lot of nerves, and the victims can often feel the pain long after it is healed.

That memory and more came to me as my pistol...No. Fayra's pistol, exploded in my hand.

I had studied to be a healer since the moment I could walk to the library by myself. As I paged through the heavy volumes for medicine, I realized that there was surprising amount of complexity to healing. I quickly found out that inflicting injuries was a hell of a lot easier than repairing them. Even though I had a deep love for the endless hours amongst the books and notes, many times the task of memorization and comprehension seem dauntless.

However, when the labyrinth of anatomy and physiology had tempted to be too much, I thought of my mother lying in bed.

I thought of the stink of human waste and soiled sheets from unwashed skin. I thought of how she had writhed unconsciously as festering wounds rotted from the inside out, causing her fever to spike and the pain to double.

All things no child should have to witness.

That was enough to keep me going. It was what made me scrub the sleep from my eyes, and keep reading. Keep learning. But eventually, the knowledge from our small library in Tumblend had become limited. Redundant.

I was laughed at when I had stalked into the Physician's Enclave in Gear's End at the ripe old age of fourteen, demanding to be taught their ways.

I remember the imposing white-walled building. It was modeled after the Church of Moradin, otherwise known as the Church of Mysteries. It boasted white spires reaching into the sky. Libraries housing more books than any person could read in ten lifetimes dotted the spires, while the main halls contained dormitories for prospective healers. There was even a crypt in the basement, where people learned about human anatomy by taking apart the forgotten dead. That information had earned the pale walls another name.

The Church of Bones.

Yes, I was laughed at. People did not get admitted to the physician's enclave until thy were in their twenties at the very least. My skinny adolescent ass could not have been more out of place amongst their High Counsel's patronizing stares. I thank the stars that McMurdah had suggested that I be allowed to be tested.

If you are so certain she will fail, then you have nothing to fear from her being tested, he had said on my behalf.

Oh, how the pretentious looks had turned to astonishment when I had taken my entrance exam, and gotten every single question correct.

Paying for my education was another challenge entirely, since my father had refused to acknowledge my chosen path. But that's a story for another time.

Life has a funny way of taking your life goals and putting them through a meat grinder, doesn't it?

*******

The Puma's bullet hit the chamber, and blasted apart on impact, taking much of my hand with it.

Now, in this moment, I knew Aarn McMurdah had been right. This hurt like a bitch. Spots danced across my vision as I fell back, sprawling on the stairs. The pain was so bad that I wanted someone to chop my arm off. Just so I didn't have to feel it anymore.

The edge of the stairs dug into my back. My head struck the railing of the grand staircase, lights going off in my skull. I was vaguely aware of feet thundering up the wood, but had no time to react. My vision cleared just in time to see nine of them right on top of me. Some of them were wore victorious smiles, while more had vengeful snarls on their faces.

I summoned as much of my remaining energy as I could.

A wall of spikes made from shadow expanded around me, hitting several of them back down the stairs. Two were able to brace against the blow, arms protecting their faces as the shadow passed. My stupid legs were still unable to stand as they recovered.

Smirking, they each aimed a pistol between my eyes.

The side of one's head blasted apart as a bullet went through it, ear to ear. Before I could process what happened, a boot slammed into the other's face, sending him careening down the stairs. He flopped pathetically, before finally landing on top of poor Lord Beaufoutonte's body. The other Pumas stood slowly, gashes marring their skin. However, all the wounds were too shallow.

Agile as a cat, Zachariah landed in front of me, a pistol in his hand. Two more Pumas laid dead at the top of the stairs, apparently having tried to race ahead.

"Need some help?" I heard him say over the ringing in my ears. He held a hand out, and then I was being hauled to my feet. My head swam as I stumbled up a few stairs, but Zachariah steadied me with a sure arm around my shoulders. I held up my ruined hand, redirecting my focus and energy into healing.

We heard a low laugh from the bottom of the stairs, the raspy sound loud in the room.

I looked up, and saw the man who had shot Fayra's pistol staring at my bloody stumps for fingers. Cold rage settled in my core at his smug face. He laid on his stomach, a hand clenched on a shallow wound in his shoulder.

I surprised him by rolling my eyes and waving my arm in a gesture of impatience.

"Son of a bitch! I hate it when that happens!" I cried, cradling the gory appendage. The bleeding had already stopped, and bones reformed from thin air.

Zachariah's lips twitched in a half smile as I healed. The bones, muscles, and skin knitted together in front of my eyes, faster now that I was focusing on it. I struggled to stay on my feet, my energy down to the dregs. The other Pumas slowly regained their feet, moaning with various injuries. I leaned toward Zachariah, making my voice low as my hand finally became whole.

"We have to leave one of them alive," I murmured stepping to where I had dropped my left pistol.

The one that wasn't ruined.

As I did, I spied the handle of the one that had exploded. The chamber was nearly unrecognizable, and metal was twisted apart. The barrel had blasted off, and only the thunderwood handle was intact. Dammit, I was going to have to hunt for the missing parts. These pistols were the best part of what I had left of Fayra.

And now one was destroyed.

Growling, I turned back to the smirking Puma, showing off my now unblemished hand. His face paled as he saw me wriggle my fingers smoothly. I used my middle finger to point directly at him, his friends just now getting to their feet unsteadily.

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"That one," I said to Zachariah, "I want that one alive."

And when I get you alone, I'll make good on my promise to do something terrible, I thought privately.

Zachariah didn't have time to respond as the Puma's mounted their next assault. He flashed his pistol and fired a shot. A body fell as his bullet hit home. I raised my left hand and fired two more shots.

Two more bodies hit the floor, and two more flashes of pain went across my back. The Puma's were moving slower now, and it was like shooting fish in a barrel from our vantage point on the stairs. I refused to feel sorry for them, a manic laugh escaping me.

I took aim at my next victim, back to back with Zachariah, who had fired three more shots. I knew he was counting and would hold it over me if his body count was higher. Pausing to reload, I eyed my next targets before we heard a scream.

"STOP!" one of them bellowed over the tumult.

I spared a glance at the Puma at the bottom of the stairs, a large man with black hair and an unfortunately weak chin. He held Lord Beaufoutonte's limp form by his hair, a knife at his throat. The other Pumas paused as well, their eyes going between us like they were watching a sparring match. I immediately redirected my aim toward the dark-haired Puma, as did Zachariah.

"I SAID STOP!" the man yelled, gesturing with the knife. Despite everything, part of me breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't known if the magic poison was for sleeping or killing. At least I now knew all the guests were alive. He wouldn't be threatening to kill a dead man.

A dot of blood appeared at the Lord's throat

Considering my options, I held my hands up with my barrel pointed toward the sky. The dark-haired Puma's face twisted in a gnarled smile.

"Drop your weapons! You two will drink the potion. NOW!" he ordered as he dragged his prospective victim backward. At his words, a few of his men retrieved vials of translucent liquid from their vests and began to stride toward us. My mind whirring, I gently lowered Fay's pistol to the floor. After a breath, I took a cautious step toward him, my hands still raised.

"You know, you don't have to yell. We can hear you quite fine," I said, my voice as soft as I could manage. I reach inwardly for the shadows, but nothing answered. Gods be damned, why was I so much weaker than I was in Grimwater? I had one more trick up my sleeve, but I needed just three or four more precious seconds. I counted them silently as I stalled.

One.

Zachariah shifted behind me, his pistol clacking against the steps. The Puma narrowed his eyes at us, putting the knife higher on the Lord's throat. Taking the silent cue, Zachariah and I paused.

"We'll do what you say," Zachariah lied smoothly, his voice dead calm.

Two.

"We can work something out," I said like I was speaking to a panicking horse. The Puma began to look everywhere, his eyes darting from his men to the door. as if deciding his next move.

Seeing his distraction, I took another step. Unfortunately, he noticed immediately.

"I TOLD YOU TO STAY THERE!" the dark haired man yelled, flashing the knife. The dot of blood on Lord Beaufoutonte's throat became a line.

Three.

"Why are you still yelling? You'll lose a lot of money if you kill him, you know."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! I SAID STOP, SO STOP!"

Four.

I managed a smile as I did as he asked. I met his eyes, my heart rate rising as I prepared my final trump card.

"You're right. You did say to stop. And you know what? I think that's a fantastic idea," I said as I let the ice overtake me.

*******

"Dumb bitc--" was all he could get out before his mouth froze in mid-air.

Limbs as heavy as lead, an overwhelming urge to sleep hit as I finished stopping time.

It became deathly quiet. I looked to my left, and saw a Puma with a vial looming there. Zachariah was glaring at the Puma next to him, his face as lethal as his weapon.

Even though time had stopped, I knew I didn't have a lot of it. I felt her nearby. Many people didn't know this, but using powerful a spell thinned the veil between the material realm and all the others. It tendied to attract unwanted attention, and left the weilder of that magic vulnerable. Casting a spell like this was like opening a door, and you had no control of what decided to walk through it.

Even now, I felt primordial eyes watching me. I had to move quickly, not knowing how long I could maintain the spell. More importantly, I didn't know how long I could hold her back. She drew nearer and nearer with each passing moment, sensing my weakness.

Shaking off my fatigue with a growl, I refilled the chamber of my pistol, and snapped it shut.

I went to each of them, the frozen Pumas, and did the same kill shot for each. True to my word, I left the one who had destroyed Fayra's gun alive, instead putting a bullet through each of his kneecaps.

Without warning, my Marks burned like an unending fire, making me scream. They throbbed against my skin as if invisible fingers were pulling them toward something. Or someone.

My surroundings faded for a fraction of a second, the veil thinning to the barest thread. A female form of unearthly beauty stood next to me, her arm stretched toward my neck. Her hateful eyes seemed to be everywhere I looked. Red corneas with black slits for pupils took in every detail of the mansion before settling on me. A pulse radiated from her gaze and then the pulling doubled.

My feet scraped on the floor as I was drawn toward her by my Marks. A noose made of purest fire wrapped itself around my neck as she tugged and tugged. She was being insistent now. More insistent than she had every been in ten years.

My Marks dragged me closer to her by the skin of my neck, her beckoning finger controlling every inch. I struggled, but it was useless.

I was her Chosen, after all.

Soft fingers grazed my Marks. It was gentle touch. Almost motherly. It wasn't violent or rushed in any way, and yet it was more than enough to hold me captive.

Everything shattered.

One moment, I was in the Beaufoutonte mansion, and the next I was in a beautiful garden, plants as far as the eye could see. I was laying on my back in my same clothes, but my body suddenly felt light. The pain and fatigue vanished abruptly, making me wonder if they had ever been there at all. I ran a finger along my Marks, but they had gone silent. My fingers felt nothing but smooth skin.

Rising to my feet, I looked around. I shouldn't have bothered, though. I knew exactly where I was.

An endless field of grass flowed before me. Vibrant flowers, herbs, and trees of every type dotted the landscape. I stood at the base of an ancient tree with plump fruit hanging from every branch. This tree, the largest of all the others, seemed to be the center of the garden. Every surrounding plant glowed in a soft phosphorescent light in the otherwise still night. The sky was an endless blackness, with symbols of all the other gods spread throughout it.

Every God had it's own version of Purgatory, and this was the first one I had come to know. This was where I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

Ten years ago, a naïve young healer had come to this part of Purgatory, seeking a Goddess's help to save the love of her life. Taken by the peace and beauty of her surroundings, she believed every word the Goddess had told her. How could a being who lived in such a beautiful place possibly lead her wrong? The young healer was told that all Deified had to pay a boon for gifts from the Gods. So, the young woman had paid...and paid...and paid.

And I was still paying.

"Fuck," I murmured, my voice echoing in the plain. Beautiful laughter was my answer. Her voice was deep and powerful, causing a ripple in the air.

"Is that your favorite word, dearest?"

I spun around to reveal a woman of dark beauty. Her hair was long and obsidian, flowing in it's own graceful wind. She looked young, perhaps nineteen or twenty. Her body was clad in a simple misty dress that bent and shift perfectly over her frame. Her face was innocent. Welcoming. Kind.

And not fooling me in the least anymore.

I didn't answer her, instead settling for a glare. The young woman stared at me, her face a vision of absolute perfection apart from her red and black eyes. She blinked at me, canting her head as she rested it on her smooth chin. After a moment of silence, she smiled, showing all of her teeth.

"Oh, what's the matter? You don't like this form?" she asked, her face in mock confusion before she gazed upward, as if trying to recall a distant memory.

"Well, I suppose I can't blame you. The last time you saw this one...Well...That didn't end so well, did it?"

I couldn't help it. I took a step backward as if she had slapped me. She only let out another musical laugh.

"Let's try some of my other forms then."

The Goddess's eyes never left mine as she shifted. First, she reformed into a woman in her prime. Her figure became robust and shoots of gray went through her hair. The landscape changed with her, the plants growing as if time had passed in their life cycle. She kept aging until she resembled an old woman, back bent and hair completely white. The plants lost leaves and began to wilt as much as her spine.

"Stop," I murmured too quietly. She ignored me.

The hair dropped from her skull, the skin turning to leather. She looked like a old person seconds from breathing their last. The plants died one by one around me until the once-beautiful landscape became barren and lifeless.

Dead.

Only the Goddess's eyes remained unchanged. They pierced me as I remained silent, my heart pressing against my ribs. I took another step back as the dying body came toward me. I swallowed, my throat as dry as the ground had become.

As everything flattened, I could see farther into the landscape. My breath caught as I saw an ocean resembling the night sky stretching to a tiny dot of land on the horizon. Tears came to my eyes, hot and insistent, as I realized what that was.

The Far Shore.

Fayra was there. She was right there. I could get to her if I just--

"So distracted today. Is this any way to treat your host?" that beautiful voice interrupted my thoughts as my Marks flared with pain again. I cried out as they dragged my gaze back to the walking corpse and the barren land around me.

Those red eyes considered me for yet another moment before she reclined on a boulder. Black silken hair shot from the skull, and the skin became smooth again as the grass grew back and the flowers bloomed anew. She looked at me, perfect teeth glinting once more in a devastating grin as she finished donning her younger form. She lifted her brows expectantly.

Fighting against the pain, I took a deep breath as I forced myself to stare directly into those crimson orbs. Her black slits for pupils dilated with delight as I cough up blood onto some white roses nearby.

"Hello Death," I said, my voice rough, "What do you want?"

Her grin became predatory.

"Hello my dearest little Chosen," she said, cupping my chin before I could wipe the blood away.

"We need to talk."