Luna Rucervus knew herself to be kneeling in Paul Blackwell's room, but her mind was now elsewhere. Her own body began to fade, until only the shadows of her form were left, the rest of her now transparent. The world around her now resembled a blueish abyss, filled with the decayed remains of old, bizarre buildings jutting toward the sky and bones of rotted creatures, yellow in hue. Remnants of The Abandoned Realm. They'll disappear soon enough, she thought. Once the others recognize my signal.

Luna held a hand to her face, each fingertip lying along the edges. Then, she pulled her hand outwards as she slowly brought her fingers together.

"PERSONIS!!"

The space her fingers had passed through became occupied by the magick she'd cast, forming a mask to obscure her identity. The mask was jagged and angular like diamond, resembling the beak and feathers of a crow, as was Luna's alias among her order. The decaying remains around her began to fade from view, a sign that the others had begun to arrive.

With no noise, the shadowed form of two others appeared around her. One form belonging to the man known as Mare, bearing a crystalline mask resembling the upper jaw of a horse. The shadows cast along his body the only visible part of him. His body was oddly proportioned, with wide chest and long, lanky arms accompanied by spindly legs. His head was spherical in shape and his blackened mouth appeared to account for half of it. A fitting appearance, thought Luna, although likely a distortion of the Abandoned Realm.

The other form was shorter in stature than the others, with an appearance of an average man stretched out and flattened. His shoulders riding higher than his head, an oblong square shape. A result of a weak connection to the Abandoned Realm. Atop his head rested a crystalline mask with two spires jutting outwards. This agent was known to Luna only as Ram.

"Fourteen operations under my belt and I've never called an emergency council," whispered Mare, eager to begin digging at Luna before the Domina's arrival. "Yet your first operation with us and you go running back behind your mother's skirt."

"You've only yourself to blame," replied Luna. "It is because of the sorry state of your intelligence officers that I've any need of counsel at all."

"You would dare accuse your senior of imcompetence?"

"I would accuse you of far worse than that, were we not in the presence of others."

"Enough, you two!" whispered the man known as Ram. " Just ONCE, I wish to find you two at peace."

"Come now, Ram," offered Luna. "You know I never respond unless provoked."

"Like Hell, you don't," hissed Mare.

"Well, the Domina's arriving," said Mare, gesturing to a gathering of shadows before them. The sign of the Domina herself beginning to project. "Can ya be civil long enough for us to have this council?"

"I can," offered Luna. "We shall have to see about the old man."

"Child, I--" began Mare, but cut himself off. "Very well."

"Good," said Ram and the three sat silently waiting for the Domina. "...although your officers are bloody awful."

Mare let out a frustrated sigh, muffled by his mask as Luna and Ram shared a quick laugh. It was strange to feel kinship to someone who she only knew by a code-name, but she felt Ram was one of the few Umbrans that she could trust.

A regret that we will never meet outside of these moments. Aside from the Domina, none of the agents were to know the identity of the others, although Luna had some suspicions of a few absent members' identities.

The gathering shadows compressed and faded to reveal the form of the Domina's projection. The arrival was transparent except for shadow, same as the others, but beared no sign of distortion or warped feature. Such is her control over the Abandoned Realm. Her robe and cloak draped across her body, the wardrobe indicating her status as a senator to the Emperor. A golden belt was visible at her waist, resembling the one Luna wore. The wrinkled shadows on her exposed arms gave away her age. Even through shadow, Luna could make out the shape of her crystalline mask, resembling the face of a horned owl.

"Ave, Domina," the Umbrans called, each of them standing to perform the appropriate bow to greet her.

"Ave. The Emperor's hands have been bound," said the Domina, beginnning the ritual greeting. "How will he maintain his grasp over the Empire?"

"Through the Umbral Hand," the man called Mare replied, verifying his identity.

"And how will we maintain the Emperor's grasp?" asked the Domina.

"By reaching to where he cannot," replied Ram, completing his part of the greeting.

"For it is by our Hand alone..." completed the Domina.

"...that the Light's Will is done." answered Luna, ending the ritual.

"Good," said the Domina. "Now, I presume that we all understand why we are here."

At this, Ram raised a tentative hand. "I believe we're here about the Blackwell boy. We-that is to say, Crow-- are to escort him to the capital, where he will be assigned by the Emperor to a mission that we've ensured will fail and have him die."

"Yes?" replied the Illustrious Lady, sensing an incoming question.

"Well, it's just that I don't understand why we've condemned this boy to death. You say it's because of his father, Ethan Morningstar. But in the time between meetings, I've searched high and low and have seen almost no mention of the man."

"That is by design," replied the Domina. "Ethan Morningstar's very name is a weapon. His final threat to us. Morningstar is a remnant of the past. A creature not of our world. The Heritage Keepers refer to him as an Outworlder, one who walks between the realms. He arrived here from the Decaying Realm, which we now know as the Abandoned Realm." The Domina lifted an arm, gesturing to the Realm they currently resided in.

Ram looked around at the Realm, the remnants of death and decay, a look of terror on his face as the realization sunk in. "From...here? Not projection, but...actually between the realms? But that's--"

"Impossible?" intejected the Lady. "And yet he found a way, bringing others along with him. And after years of living among rot and ruin, his first instinct in a new world was to conquer it. Recruiting the other outworlders to his cause and executing those who would not follow.

"As an Outworlder, he had access to all the abominations of this realm, using them as his own personal army. Daemons, Angels, even the dragons that haunted the Northern Fields all those decades ago. Did you think them natural to our lands? No. They were his doing.

"In time, he would abandon the name Ethan Morningstar as a relic of his old world and took another. Abbadon. His crusade against the lands lead to an unholy war that saw death counts in the millions. Entire bloodlines extinguished, their bodies puppeteered to fight in his tyrannical war.

"Soon, his desire for conquest extended even beyond simply controlling the lands. He began to destroy the history of the lands that he ruled over, rechristening them with names from his realm, their true names lost to time. His destruction of our history sent us back a millennia, techniques and technology once commonplace, now no more than fantasy.

"Only by the united might of the remaining kingdoms and the leadership of Novus Solis I was he finally defeated. His remaining generals were hunted down and dealt with. But his legacy lives on. Every day, our people must live in fear of the monsters he has cursed us with. Bodies lie in the ground with no gravestones to mark them. The Solis Empire, after limping on for four centuries, has finally begun to regain some of what it had lost all those years ago. Even now, mad cultists believing Morningstar to be the true Light move to enact his will. That is who Ethan Morningstar is and why we are here."

The man called Ram stood in awe, his mind racing to process all that he had just learned. "But...if what you say is true and this took place centuries ago...then how is this Blackwell boy his son?"

"Before his death, Morningstar discovered a new type of magick, one he called redistent," explained the Lady. "A magick that would allow him to rule once more should he fall. One that would rebuild him time and time again, his memories locked away until the day he learns of his past and Awakens.

"We've known this for decades now and have worked to suppress any mention of his work throughout the lands, but our reach extends only so far. Along the fringes of the empire exist some who would still dare to carry his banner. Some in defiance of the empire, some in reverence, fanatics who believe that He will return as promised to destroy the empire and grant them new life, reborn in his image. And now that time has come."

"Then you mean..."

"Graham Blackwell is not simply the son of Ethan Morningstar. Graham Blackwell is Ethan Morningstar."

----

Graham watched as Paul searched across the room, panicked, his hands grabbing various weapons and throwing them down after a moment. "No, blade's cracked," he muttered to himself.

"Uh, Paul?" Graham began, but Paul simply ignored him. After telling him of the daemon that attacked him that morning, Paul seemed terrified and seemed to have forgotten that Graham was in the room. He simply continued his search while offering quiet whispers of "What were they thinking?" and "Not enough time".

"Paul," began Graham, "I know that daemons are dangerous--"

"Dangerous?!" replied Paul, never ceasing his search. "Goblins are dangerous. Old bridges are dangerous. A skullraider is the stuff of nightmares. They burrow into your skull and suck out your brain. Then! They can take your memories, your voice, everything about you to use in their insidious schemes.

"The worst part? You aren't even fully dead. Part of your mind lives in some horrible abyss within the beast's mind, trapped forever in endless nothingness. Now keep quiet and let me search."

Finally, Paul found a weapon that seemed to satisfy him A simple broadsword with a bronze handle. "Alright, this'll work. Graham, pull out your axe."

"Huh? But wh--" Graham began.

"No time!" his brother snapped. "They'll be here soon. Just get it out and change it."

Graham, a bit upset, pulled the axe out and activated it as his brother said.

"Good. Now, listen carefully. I'm going to come at you with this," Paul said, holding up the sword. "I know you've seen me training before. Whatever you saw, try to remember it. We don't have long before they get here."

"Before who--" Graham's question was interrupted by his brother quickly swinging the sword high above his head. Graham instinctively held the handle of his axe above his head to block the sword. The two weapons clashed and Graham felt wicked vibrations bouncing through the handle.

"Alright, not bad," said Paul, slightly belabored. "Decent block, but watch your hands. Easiest way to disarm you is to go for your hands. Understand? And don't forget about the top of the axe." He placed his sword atop a curved notch at the flat end of the axe head. "Use that to catch a weapon and disarm your foe."

Paul silently nodded.

"Alright, good. Now take a swing at me. And don't say no. Just do it," Paul said, holding his sword before him to block.

Graham hesitated for a moment, then lifted the axe high above his head as felt routine. Before he could blink, Paul stepped forward and stabbed the handle of his sword into Graham's stomach. All the air in Graham's body flew out of him and he nearly fell to his knees before Paul propped him up.

"Sorry, brother, but there's no teacher like experience. You left yourself far too open. You're not splitting logs anymore." As he held him up, Paul guided Graham's hands to his axe once more, only now allowing the large axe head to hang beneath Graham's elbows and placed his off hand at the edge of the handle.

"You hold the axe like this, allows blocking and attacking from the same motion. We need to build up your muscle memory and this stance will be the fastest way to do it. Just remember, a weapon like that? Smooth motion, big swing, hit 'em hard. Now, take a breath and try again."

Graham felt his knees still weak from the attack, but did his best to swing towards Paul's sword. Paul harshly swung his sword at Graham's axe, the two weapons clanging loudly in the night. Again, his arms ached from the waves of impact from the weapon. "Again," cried Paul. Once more, Graham swung again, now with more force to meet the impact of Paul's weapon. The two weapons clanged again, only now Graham's arms felt steady as he held the vibrating weapon. Without warning, Paul swung his sword at Graham from his left side. Graham quickly blocked the attack, then, with the two weapons still connected, shoved Paul back and moved his axe back to swing.

Graham swung the axe head low with all of his might. As he did so, Paul dropped his sword in midair and took a step back, putting out his hands flat in the space he previously occupied. As the axe head swung forward, he clapped his flat palms along its flat sides and caught the axe mid swing. The loud SLAP! boomed throughout the room, sending a few of the loose paper piles flying.

For a moment, the only sound heard in the room was the heavy breathing of the two men. Their bodies coated in sweat and their muscles worn from the routine. "Where'd you get that little shove technique?" asked Paul, breaking the silence between them.

"S-saw you do it once," replied Graham, his shoulders rising and falling, still trying to catch his breath. "Figured...it couldn't be too hard."

"Now, don't go getting arrogant," warned Paul. "That's the easiest way to find your throat slit. But aside from that, you did good. Should be able to hold your own somewhat."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Which is good..."

Their discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door.

----

"...because it sounds like our new friends are here," said Paul, picking up his weapon once more.

The two brothers remained silent as once more, the outsider knocked at the door. Graham looked to his brother for guidance and Paul did his best to wordlessly communicate that they should remain silent.

"I know you're in there," the outsider said through the door. "I could hear you earlier. With your weapons."

The voice was oddly calm for someone with access to a skullraider, spoken with a gentle tone. Paul searched the man's voice for any speaking pattern or accent that he could identify.

"I'm not interested in a fight," spoke the outsider. "Please, I don't mean any harm. I don't even have a weapon. I want to try and build some trust between us. My name is Levi. I'm a doctor of sorts, no formal education but I've been trained. I work for a small church north of Starbend, close to Duskvale. Are either of you...believers?"

Silence once more. Paul looked to Graham, seeing the resolve on his face begin to fade. Don't say anything.

"I understand if you aren't," continued the voice. "Not many who do believe these days. Not much in the world to inspire belief, I suppose. I know that this may seem frightening, Graham. I hope you don't mind me calling you by name, but it's only because I've come here to do something very important and I think you might be a part of it."

Paul prepared to open the door, his right hand holding the sword high, ready to attack when--

"What do you want with me?" asked Graham, exposing their presence. You fool! thought Paul.

"Ah, Graham. I was afraid you planned to stay quiet all night. I...thank you for trusting me enough to speak. This would all be so much easier if we could speak face to face. By your shadows, I can see that your brother is holding a weapon, ready to attack me. How's about we all put away our weapons and just have a simple conversation?"

Paul glared at Graham, the most venomous look he could muster resting on his face. Then, placing his sword at his side, he reached for the door.

In the doorframe stood a giant of a man, who appeared to be crouching to meet them at eye level. An indigo cloak hung from his shoulders, hood down. Even in the darkness of night, Paul could see the top of the man's bald head was riddled with scars that resembled a map. His face was harsh and angular with several lines and wrinkles hanging along it. His skin was a sickly brown shade which gave the man a somewhat ghostly quality. Paul searched the man's blue eyes for any hint of malice, but he appeared genuine in his resolve for peace.

When Graham had told him of the daemon he'd encountered that morning, Paul knew someone was bound to come for them soon. Skullraiders don't come out this far, he'd thought. Not unless someone sent them. And sure enough, it appeared that someone was here now.

"It's...good to meet the two of you. Face to face," said Levi. "Paul, I assume? An...associate of mine told me that Graham had a brother." He extended his arm in greeting. Paul simply stared. "Alright, I understand. I know this is an upsetting situation and you don't fully trust me."

As he lowered his hand, he took a look to Graham. Not a simple glance, but rather truly examining him. Paul saw Graham shift in discomfort.

The man stayed silent for a moment longer, then calmly closed the door behind him. "I have an associate. He's the one who informed me of where I could find you two. He's just outside, waiting for me. In the interest of maintaining our trust, I feel you should know that he's been given orders to come look for me if I don't return within 15 minutes. I'd like to say my piece and then, regardless of what you may say, return to him with all of us unharmed."

Levi waited for a moment. Giving us a chance to say no? Paul thought. Then, he took a step towards Graham, placing himself between the two brothers, a high kreek heard from the boards beneath his feet. Trying to separate us. "I-" began Levi, but paused when he saw Paul take a step back to ensure that he and Graham were both before him. "Apologies," Levi continued. "As I said before, I come from a church. Work there as a doctor. I...treat a lot of people. More and more, lately. There's a sickness spreading throughout the land, coming from the North so I doubt it's reached anywhere near here yet. We don't know how to fight it, so for now, my only role has been to...comfort those afflicted.

"There are so many people who are sick and dying now. Innocents, children, all who need help. And I think you might be able to help them, Graham. And we may be able to help you, too."

"He doesn't need any of--" Paul began, but was cut off.

"Help me how?" asked Graham. Do you actually believe him? Paul thought.

Levi's lips now stretched into a small smile. It did not seem insincere, but Paul found it more frightening than if it had. "Someone came to you today, didn't they? They came to take you to the Capital."

"You know about Lu-the Herald?" asked Graham, quickly stopping himself from revealing her name. Good. Give him nothing.

"I knew that someone would come for you today, but they're no mere Herald. They have a more sinister agenda in mind for you. Something that might be the end of you. I've...not been given permission to explain it to you and, even if I had, I don't think myself smart enough to do it justice. But this Herald, they're dangerous. You can't trust them."

"And why should we trust you?" growled Paul, now finding his hand gripping tightly on the handle of his sword.

Levi continued, taking another step forward, closer to Graham. Another kreek heard. "Because my people know so much about you, Graham. The true you. We know..." He paused to take a breath, the first time he seemed truly rattled. "We know why you have those nightmares."

Paul saw Graham's eyes widen in fear as he took a step back. It can't be. Is this man correct? Levi took another step closer to Graham, who attempted to speak. "B-but I don't..." he sputtered before Levi continued.

"You had one last night, didn't you? They restrained you to a chair." Graham took another step back and Levi followed. Another kreek! Paul found himself glued to the floor. "They ran a current through your body." Both men moved once again. kreek! "It burned through your body, in agonizing flame." Graham no longer moved, but Levi took another step. kreek! "God, the screams you heard. They shook the whole of the room."

Paul found himself now completely separated from Graham by Levi's massive form. Graham's breathing was quick and panicked, struggling to keep breath in his lungs. The whites of his wide eyes now shaded red, bordering on tears. Levi, recognizing this, held out an open hand to Graham. "Don't be afraid. I know this is frightening to you, but this is actually a fantastic day for you. I just need to ask you. Du shages ki isti aki?"

Daemonspeech! Thought Paul. This man is our enemy!

His senses returned, Paul quickly moved to draw his weapon, but before he could, Graham responded.

"W-what? Sorry, I don't etido a du hala."

"Du etide sto gubta?"

"Orki ne ria O?"

Paul felt his grip on his weapon weaken. His body now felt numb, his mind cloudy. All function within Paul ceased. He felt like a stranger within his own body.

----

The small smile on Levi's face now stretched into a toothy grin, his eyes tightening. It frightened Graham. Then, remembering Paul, he turned to speak.

"Paul, I'm sorry. I didn't intend to exclude you from the conversation and I apologize. In another language, one falsely referred to as Daemonspeech, I asked your brother if he understood what I was asking and...he asked, 'Why wouldn't I?'"

Graham, confused, looked to his brother to see that Paul's expression confirmed Levi's claim. It sounded like plain English. But if I know Daemonspeech...the dreams...oh, Light, no.

"You understood me," continued Levi. Then, seeing that Graham had begun to panic, he placed a hand upon Graham's shoulder. "Now, don't be afraid. That language, Graham, is an old expression of faith."

"It's the language of the daemons!" shouted Paul.

"You believe their lies?!" hissed Levi, his voice now booming through the room. At his outburst, Graham once again held his weapon in a fighting stance. Paul lifted his sword once more, aiming the point directly at Levi, he waited as the man held out his hands in peace. "I'm sorry," Levi began. "I...I'm just very excited. This is something I've been waiting for since I first joined the church all those years ago."

Levi turned to speak with Graham. "Now, your brother is right, that language is predominantly used by the Daemons."

"Swine!" growled Paul.

"But!" Levi continued. "That is only because the daemons can live far longer than any other creature: Human, elven, fae. They speak the language because it is one of the oldest languages in our nation's history."

Levi then slowly pulled out a slip of paper from his robe and showed it to Graham. "There's a word I need you to speak. I can't say it for you. But if you can read this, I may be able to help you."

Levi held the paper before Graham, a series of odd runes and symbols on it. The runes were angular and interconnected, in what appeared to be a random order. But, looking closer at them, Graham could see the connections formed a series of gaps that formed a series of letters. "SUWYOX". The word alone was gibberish, but Graham understood that the word was code for another. A word he seemed to already know. Mortis. Whatever it means, no good can come of speaking it.

"You can read it, can't you?" asked Levi, his smile stretching so wide, it appeared painful. "I knew you could. Now listen to me, Graham..."

----

Once more, Paul heard the kreek! of the floorboards beneath Levi's feet. Only now Levi stood in place, having taken no step forward.

"...If you can read this word now, my people, they can explain everything to you."

Another kreek! heard with Levi still. Paul thought: Not from below...

"They can help you understand who you really are and why you are so important."

...but from above!

"Graham, duck!" Paul shouted.

The rooftop above Graham exploded, wooden shards flying across the room. The dust within the room filled the air and the three men gagged and coughed violently. Paul struggled for a moment to recover his hearing after the deafening boom of the attack and saw a horrific beast in the night.

"BLACKWELL!!!"

The growling, strained voice belonged to a daemon, basking in the glow of the moonlight, its dark, leather skin clashing against the white surface. Even through shadow, the daemon's small red eyes shone through. Its rag-like fins extended out like daggers cutting across the night sky. The beast's long, thin torso split open with a glikt! and a black, oozing tentacle shot down into the room.

"You did this to me! Because of you, I'm trapped in this body!"

The tentacle crashed down towards Graham, who managed to dodge as it smashed through the floor of the home, sending a shockwave throughout the home.

"Graham, swing!" shouted Paul.

Graham, out of fear, obeyed and clumsily swing his axe forward, slicing through the beast's tentacle.

"EIAAHHHH!!"

The daemon howled in agony, falling from the rooftop and writhing in pain. The beast's shadows bounced along the wall from the lantern light like a macabre display. Its cut tentacle shook in pain, spraying rotted yellow blood out from its wound. In the chaos, Graham rushed to Paul's side and the two held their weapons forward towards the man now arguing with the daemon.

"What are you doing?!" Levi screamed. "I had this under control."

"E hodre et domni korso!" shouted the beast in a guttural groan as it struggled to stand.

"Taking control? How?" Levi asked.

"Em-emvinso!!"

"Wine?" asked Levi. "What--" He was cut off as the beast convulsed and its torso split once again to produce another tentacle. The black tendril whipped through the air with a hwoo! and sliced across Levi's chest, leaving a thick gash. He opened his mouth to scream in pain, but before he could, the daemon slammed its thick tentacle deep into his torso. The impact sent Levi flying through the air, smashing into the back wall of the home. A groan echoed through the home as the damaged roof began collapsing and raining down upon them.

The wooden beams of the roof crashing around them, Paul grabbed at Graham's tunic and pulled him. "Come on, we have to go!" he shouted, but Graham stared back at Paul's room, knowing Luna remained within.

The moment's hesitation allowed the daemon to slide a tentacle beneath the two brothers and whip Paul into the air, flying to the other side of the home. With another tentacle sliding along the rooftop, the daemon yanked at the weakened wood, bringing more of the home crashing down and blocking Graham's way out. Paul ran to try to save his brother, but Graham disappeared behind a mounting pile of crumbling wood.

-----

Graham found himself alone with the daemon, whose black tendrils now spread along every surface of the destroyed room. Even through the thick cloud of grime from the collapsing roof, its spreading form was visible. Along the floor, Graham saw tendrils slithering towards him. As he moved to avoid them, he failed to take note of the tentacle arching from behind the daemon hanging above him.

Graham felt his head whip back furiously as the tendril wrapped tightly around his throat, lifting him with ease. In hopes of escaping, Graham moved to swing his axe, but only too late realized his hands were too low along the handle and the axe arched awkwardly. The tentacles all avoided the weapon with ease and the weight of the axe head broke Graham's grip, the weapon leaping out of his hands. The slender limbs of the beast all reached out to grab the axe, gliding along the weapon.

The daemon pulled Graham closer, until its blood red eyes stared directly into Graham's. All along its body, more and more tentacles emerged, whipping and writhing along the floor and walls of the home. The toothy maw of the daemon spread open as it spoke.

"Ain't got long," the beast began. "I can already feel the skullraider mind fightin' me, tryin' a' take control a' my mind again. This damned monster mind is screamin' at me, says I should suck out YOUR brain, get all those "secrets" you got locked up, but I ain't goin' back to quiet mindspace hellhole without a taste a' your blood!"

At this, the daemon's tendrils lifted up the axe and pressed the blade of the weapon upon Graham's cheek. Slowly, it brushed the blade across Graham's flesh, Graham gritting his teeth as blood dripped across it. The daemon held the axe blade before Graham, wanting him to see his blood on his own weapon.

"Quality craftsmanship right there. Cuts like butter. Gonna start with your arms. Then your legs. Then, when you're screamin' in agony, I'm gonna split that fat head of yours wide open."

"Wait!" Graham wheezed, hoping to reason with the creature. "You don't need to do this. I've done you no wrong."

"The 'ell you haven't! Thanks to you, this cursed beast stole my mind. My life is over! And none a' ya will care! Ain't no one gonna shed a tear for Ol' Jesse. Just another piece a' trash gone is what 'hey'll say!"

Jesse? thought Graham. The beggar?

"But afore I go..." the daemon spoke, holding the axe blade to its circular mouth. A thin, purple tongue slithered out and licked at the blood upon the blade.

"...I'm gonna take my pound a' flesh."

As the beast held the blade to its face, Graham quickly grabbed at the axe handle where his brother had shown him and twisted. The weapon's rune began to glow once more and the weapon changed. The axe had begun to shrink in the daemon's tentacles and, as it collapsed downward, the blade of the weapon slid clean across the daemon's open maw, leaving it hanging from its skull as yellow blood shot out of it.

"KIIIIAEEEAAAHHH!!"

The beast howled in pain, its tendrils thrashing about the room. As it did, one tendril slammed across the lantern resting along the floor, spreading oil along the tossed papers and wooden rubble of the home. The flame resting upon the bail of the lantern struck the ground and sparked the makeshift pyre.

The daemon still in pain, Graham pulled at the tentacle restraining him and freed himself. Falling to the floor, Graham quickly grabbed the weapon and twisted it once more to reveal its true form. The glowing runes of the weapon were joined by the crackling flames now surrounding the two. Graham took a fighting stance once more, taking a breath to prepare himself. Remember what Paul said. Smooth motion, big swing, hit 'em hard. Graham took a step to steady himself and prepared his arms to swing the axe.

The beast, despite being in pain, still found the strength to fight back, darting its tendrils towards Graham. The axe resting upon his shoulder, Graham turned to avoid the beast's limbs. He lifted the heavy axe up, continuing his turn to face the creature's now exposed side. Using the momentum of the dodge, Graham swung his axe.

The axe head arched through the air with great power, finding itself embedded deep within the side of the daemon. The beast screeched into the night, more of its thick yellow blood spraying throughout the room. It was now that Graham saw the room had caught fire, seeing the tendrils of the daemon that had been lying along it now squirming aflame. With the weapon still deep within the daemon's black flesh, Graham pulled on the axe's handle, dragging the beast along with it. Graham let out a roar as he tossed the howling beast directly towards the flaming rubble, its long body floundering along the fire. Graham, seeing the fire had begun weakening the corner of the home holding some remains of the rooftop, arched his axe once more. The weapon sliced clean through the supporting beam and another patch of the roof came crashing down upon the beast.

The daemon's continuous screams were now muffled under the weight of the wooden debris. For a moment, Graham allowed himself a breath. In that moment, Graham felt a now familiar throbbing of his neck where the beast had held him. His back and shoulders ached as well, the unfamiliar act of swinging an axe for combat wearing on them. He struggled to breathe with the floating ash of the fire, when he remembered that Luna remained within the next room.

Somehow, the room remained untouched throughout their fight, although the fire appeared close enough to worry Graham. He made his way for the door and walked in to find Luna kneeling on the floor.

At a glance, Graham saw that she appeared to have no awareness of the events that had happened in the next room. Must not hear anything when she projects, he thought. He moved to grab her arm, planning to awaken her so they may escape until her words echoed in his mind. No matter what happens, you MUST not interrupt the communication. If you try to make contact with me while I use this tool, my mind may be lost in the rift between the Realms and I may never return.

Graham stood, baffled as to what to do next when he heard tossing and thrashing about in the next room. He stood within the doorway to see the daemon was fighting its way out of the wreckage of the home. Knowing that he could not simply leave Luna, Graham slammed the door shut and used the handle of his weapon to break off the door knob, locking them within the room. Not gonna have a choice, he thought as the sound of the beast's tendrils slamming along the floor grew louder in his ears. Graham held his axe in fighting position, seeing the door begin to burst off of its hinges. Until Luna wakes up.. He released a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding. ...I'm gonna have to fight this beast off.