"We're almost there," Oghren relayed, "my senses are givin' me the tingles all over." The other four scrunched up their noses at him.
Owayne moved away from his dwarven companion, "Sorin, do you have these tinglings as well?"
"I do not tingle. But it is as he says, be ready."
"Remember," Evelyn's command of the group came easily from her experience, "Once the source is in sight, you all pull back and let me burn it all. When all is done, I'll need protection… and clothing, so don't look Owayne."
"Gladly, sis. I'll let Miriam handle that."
Oghren gave a mischievous low chuckle, and they turned a cold stare on him, "What? She didn't tell me I couldn't look."
"Sneak even a peek and I'll tell her big meaty barbarian husband. That goes for you as well, Cyrus." Owayne leveled them a feisty glare.
"Not interested." Though his tone was devoid of emotion, somehow she knew Sorin didn't mean it as an insult.
Her eyes did catch a small smile tugging at Miriam's lips. When the petite mage realized she was looking at her, she cleared her throat, "I'll be ready!"
When they arrived at the cave, there was no mistaking the putrid stench and sight of black ichor. The surrounding woods were devoid of life. The trees had dried and bleached in the sun and the ground was cracked as if desertification was taking root. It was eerily quiet, with not so much as a bird call to be heard. Only the hollow sound of the dead tree branches bumping in the wind greeted them.
Staring into the black pit before them, Owayne turned to her, "Can't we just collapse the opening? Why do we have to go in?"
"Because if we do without killing the darkspawn, they'll just tunnel out elsewhere. We have to destroy the Blight at the source." Stopping on the threshold of the rough trail down into the Deep Roads, Evelyn peered into the darkness. She couldn't help the pang of apprehension in her gut. Having been in the Deep Roads only once before in her other life, she imagined the next week – and it would be at least a week, for no trip into the labyrinth was short – would be dark, cold, and claustrophobic. "Let's get this over with."
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The descent into the Deep Roads had been relatively quiet at first. Too quiet, Evelyn had thought, her instincts on edge despite the seeming calm. For the first few days, their group encountered only small pockets of darkspawn—scattered Hurlocks and Genlocks that barely put up a fight. Oghren made quick work of them, with Sorin and Owayne picking off stragglers. Miriam’s healing was rarely needed, and Evelyn kept her magic in reserve. For this mission conserving energy was key; whatever they sought deeper down would require her full power, and she would not waste it on inconsequential battles.
Their spirits remained high in those early days. Oghren cracked his usual crude jokes, earning groans from the others but lightening the oppressive mood. Even the air, though damp and stagnant, wasn’t unbearable yet. They all knew this wouldn’t last, but for now, they laughed around campfires and shared stories of past adventures.
On the fifth day, however, the Deep Roads began to show its true nature.
The air became thick and heavy, each breath feeling like a weight pressing on their lungs. The tunnels narrowed, and the oppressive stone felt as though it were closing in on them. Stale, wet air clung to their skin, making it hard to breathe, and their boots sank into the muck with each step. The mood shifted; the light-hearted conversations faded into silence, replaced by the grim realization that they were truly venturing into the depths of a nightmare.
The only small respite came when they stumbled upon a pack of wild nugs scampering through the darkness. Oghren, his spirits lifting at the sight of the creatures, grinned from ear to ear.
“Ah, nugs! Haven’t had one of these critters in months.” He wiped his brow and immediately set about catching a few, much to the confusion of the others.
“What are you doing?” Owayne asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Making stew!” Oghren bellowed, his voice echoing through the narrow tunnel. “You lot haven’t lived until you’ve tasted good ol’ dwarven nug stew.”
None of them had the heart to refuse, though Miriam shot Evelyn a doubtful glance as Oghren gutted the nugs with alarming efficiency, tossing them into a pot. They were tired, hungry, and ready for anything that might break the monotony. So, when Oghren ladled out thick bowls of his concoction, they all ate without question, too hungry to worry about the unusual grayish color or the questionable smell.
The stew tasted… strange. But Oghren ate it with such gusto that no one complained aloud. Evelyn took a careful bite, trying not to grimace as the moldy, oily taste coated her tongue. It was rough, but she had survived worse in the field. Or so she thought.
Not long after, the first signs appeared—her brother was the first to go pale, clutching his stomach with a groan. "Maker… what the fuck did you put in this?" he gasped, leaning against the tunnel wall.
"Nug meat and deep mushrooms, nothing better to keep you goin'.” The dwarf grunted, unfazed, “Could’ve been a bad batch though,” he added after a pause, scratching his beard just as Miriam keeled over vomiting into the dirt.
“You,” Evelyn wheezed, but she couldn’t finish as she felt her stomach twist, an unbearable pressure building inside her. The cramps came like a vice, squeezing until she dropped to her knees, barely able to breathe until the stew made its comeback.
Apart from the relentless vomiting the entire group was soon crippled by explosive diarrhea. The rancid stench of their collective sickness filled the narrow tunnel, mingling with the foul air of the Deep Roads. It was a rather undignified scene—one they all agreed to never speak of again. Oghren, strangely enough, wasn’t affected at all and looked fresh as a rose.
Evelyn, lying on her side and wiping vomit from her mouth, cursed under her breath. Surely the prophecy didn’t foresee me dying like this, shitting myself to death in the dark.
Sorin gritted his teeth through the pain and muttered, “I hope I didn’t survive the Joining and countless battles with the darkspawn only to be killed by a dwarven stew.”
“I’m sorry you weaklings can’t handle real food,” the dwarf muttered, but he did look genuinely remorseful.
“No more cooking for you,” Evelyn groaned, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ever again.”
Miriam worked tirelessly through the night, her healing magic barely keeping them from the brink. By morning, they were alive, but only just. They were weak, pale, and smelled like literal shit.
The next few days were a blur of exhaustion and grim determination. They pushed deeper into the tunnels, but now every step was heavier, as their bodies, were still weakened by the blighted stew. And the fighting… the fighting intensified.
The darkspawn came in swarms now, more ferocious than before. Hordes of Hurlocks and Genlocks charged from every direction, their twisted blades and jagged teeth flashing in the dim light. Evelyn was forced to unleash her fire magic in earnest now, her flames roaring through the tunnels, burning dozens of darkspawn at a time. Sorin fought alongside her, his lightning crackling and dancing between the bodies of their enemies, while Owayne darted through the chaos, his dual daggers flashing as he took down darkspawn with precise strikes.
As they entered a particularly wide tunnel, the ground shook beneath their feet. A massive Ogre, its hulking form grotesque and dripping saliva, roared as it charged toward them, its footsteps causing the very walls to tremble. The rest of the horde followed behind it, a tide of darkspawn crashing down on them like a living wave.
"Fall back!" Oghren shouted, his voice hoarse. But they had no ground left to give.
The battle was brutal and chaotic. The Ogre swung its fists, smashing into the stone walls and sending chunks of debris flying. Evelyn and Sorin unleashed everything they had—fire and lightning engulfing the tunnel in a violent storm of magic. Miriam kept the group alive with desperate bursts of healing, but even her mana was running low. Owayne fought like a man possessed, cutting down darkspawn after darkspawn, but for everyone they killed, two more took its place.
And all the while, the horde kept pushing them back. Deeper and deeper.
It wasn’t until Evelyn felt the shift in the air—the stench of decay thickening, the walls seeming to close in around them—that she realized what was happening.
“We’re being herded!” Sorin shouted between blasts of lightning seemingly coming to the same realization. “They’re driving us somewhere!”
This wasn’t just an ambush. This was a plan. The darkspawn weren’t fighting to kill—they were pushing them, guiding them deeper, toward something far worse.
Suddenly, the tunnels opened up into a vast cavern, the air thick with a foul, rotting stench. In the distance, Evelyn’s eyes widened in surprise as she saw the source of the corruption, the thing they had been driven toward.
The Broodmother- a grotesque abomination of flesh, its dozens of tentacles writhing, each one covered in pulsing sores. It was birthing darkspawn even as it moved, spewing forth new horrors with every heaving breath. Darkspawn swarmed from every corner, their shrieks and howls echoing off the stone. The horde was unrelenting, driving them forward, pushing them deeper into the lair.
"Sis, that’s your cue!" Owayne shouted, his twin daggers flashing as he cut through a pair of Genlocks. Blood spattered his armor, his movements growing desperate.
The Broodmother’s grotesque tentacles lashed out, smashing into the ground, and sending shockwaves through the earth. Her companions were struggling, barely able to fend off the hordes. The plan was for them to retreat after they found the source of corruption, but there was no way they could move from the range of the blast in time.
"I can end this," she shouted through the chaos, her voice barely carrying over the roar of battle. "But if I do, there’s no way to control it. I’ll burn everything. All of you included."
Oghren was fighting off a Hurlock, breathing heavily, when he turned to look at her. "We don't have another choice, las!" he called, blocking a strike just in time. "If we don't stop her now, we're all dead anyway!"
Miriam's head snapped up, her eyes fierce despite her exhaustion. "I can create barriers!" she shouted, cutting through the noise of battle. She dodged a blow from a darkspawn and continued, “I’m really good at them. That’s the only non-healing spell I’m good at.”
Evelyn blinked. "You sure?”
"Yes, but I’ll need help." The healer glanced at Sorin. "To hold it, I’ll need another mage. Someone to power the barrier strong enough to withstand your flames."
Sorin, locked in battle with a massive Hurlock, overheard her. He electrocuted the creature with a burst of lightning before rushing to her side. “I’ve got plenty of mana left in me,” he said, wiping blood from his forehead. “If it’s enough, we can make this work."
Miriam nodded. “We need to synchronize. When you’re ready, Evelyn, just give the word.”
Evelyn felt a glimmer of hope amid the chaos. "Alright," she said, her voice firm now. "Get into position. Owayne! Oghren!" she called, turning to the others. "Clear me a path to the Broodmother! I need to get close without spending more of my power."
Oghren, bleeding from multiple wounds but grinning like a madman, let out a booming laugh. "About time you unleashed the real fire, lass!" he shouted. He swung his axe into the nearest darkspawn, splitting it in two. "Come on, Lord Fancy Pants, let's make sure she has room to work!"
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Owayne nodded, despite the exhaustion etched on his face. "Right behind you," he muttered, then darted forward, moving with deadly precision as he cut through the darkspawn horde.
The two of them tore into the swarm, carving a bloody path toward the Broodmother with a desperation born of knowing they had no other option.
Behind them, Miriam and Sorin linked hands, standing back-to-back as they began to channel their magic. "Focus on me," Miriam said, her voice shaking slightly. "We’re going to need every ounce of power we have to hold the barrier."
Sorin squeezed her hand tightly. "I’ve got you. Let's do this."
As they channeled their magic, a shimmering green barrier began to form around the group, crackling with energy. It was thin at first, but as they poured more and more of their power into it, the barrier thickened, solidifying into a dome of shimmering light.
"Evelyn!" Sorin shouted through the din of battle, his voice strained from the effort. "We’re ready! Do it—now!"
Evelyn's heart raced as the Lowlanders ran for cover. She saw the path cleared ahead of her and she fade-stepped, the grotesque Broodmother was now thrashing right before her, its tentacles writhing as it spewed more darkspawn. This was the moment.
With a deep breath, Evelyn let go. She surrendered herself to Hakkon’s mark, to the molten power inside her. Her skin began to glow, cracks of fiery red spreading across her body as she transformed. Her breath came out in hissing gasps as she became one with the flames. Her body shifted and became lava—burning, unstoppable, alive.
With a final scream of effort, she released it.
The explosion was blinding, a roaring inferno of molten lava and fire that consumed everything in its path. The flames spread out from her, a wave of destruction that incinerated the darkspawn and the Broodmother’s tentacles instantly.
Miriam screamed in exertion, her arms shaking as she struggled to hold the barrier in place. Sorin gritted his teeth, his hand clenched hers as he poured every ounce of his magic into the shield. The barrier held, barely, but the sheer force of the firestorm made it tremble, cracks forming in the green light.
Outside the dome, the world was ablaze. The Broodmother let out an ear-splitting screech as the fire consumed it, its monstrous body shriveling and burning. The darkspawn melted in the heat, their tainted bodies turning to ash.
Evelyn was at the heart of it all, the firestorm surrounding her, her body pure flame. She pushed everything she had into the blast, letting the fire cleanse the taint, burn it from the very stone. She could feel the corruption screaming as it burned away, feel the darkness melting under her power.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the flames began to die down. The inferno faded, leaving only a smoldering wasteland of ash and charred rock.
Evelyn, her body still glowing faintly with residual heat, collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. The transformation had taken everything out of her. She looked around, her vision blurry, to see the barriers around her friends flickering and fading, the green light finally disappearing as Miriam and Sorin slumped to the ground, utterly spent.
The cavern was silent, save for the crackling of cooling stone. The Broodmother was dead, its massive form reduced to nothing but charred remains. The darkspawn were gone, obliterated by the fire.
Evelyn blinked, still trying to catch her breath. They’ve done it! But as she looked down at herself, she realized that as expected she was completely naked.
For a moment, no one spoke. Owayne, Oghren, and Sorin all averted their eyes almost in unison, faces flushed with awkwardness. Even Oghren, known for his brashness and crude humor, turned his gaze away, muttering something under his breath that sounded like an attempt at decorum.
Miriam, shaky and exhausted, managed to drag herself to her feet. Despite the overwhelming fatigue that weighed on her limbs, she gave a small, reassuring smile. Her eyes flitted over Evelyn, concern mingling with weariness. “I’ve got something for you,” she said, voice faint but steady. She reached into her pack, fumbling with trembling hands as she pulled out a fresh set of robes. The fabric was simple and functional—nothing like Evelyn's previous robes, but enough to cover her until they could locate her pack.
With care, Miriam handed the robes to Evelyn, who took them gratefully. As she slipped them on, the fabric stretched in places to accommodate Evelyn's larger form.
"We should move," Sorin said, his voice still breathless. "The Deep Roads are no place to linger in one place for long." They all agreed. The victory was theirs, but it was still a long way up. And they were far from safe.
Hours later, after they had made their way out of the darkest tunnels and set up camp, exhaustion finally caught up with them. They settled around a small, dim fire, their bodies sore, wounds hastily healed by Miriam.
Evelyn found herself stealing glances at her companions, noting the toll the battle had taken on each of them. Owayne sat sharpening his blades, his movements slower than usual, his face pale. Sorin leaned against a rock, eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought. Oghren, as always, had a flask in hand, though even his jovial demeanor seemed muted.
But it was Miriam who caught Evelyn’s attention the most. The healer sat by herself, her skin even paler than usual, her hand scratching absently at a fresh scar on her palm. It was a deep, jagged mark, one that hadn’t been there before the battle.
“Miri, come here,” Evelyn said softly, and the healer moved to sit beside her. “What’s wrong?”
Miriam flinched at the question, quickly pulling her hand away from her palm as if trying to hide the wound. But she couldn’t hide the nervous flicker in her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she said too quickly, her voice strained. “Just… a bite. One of those beasts during the battle got me, but I healed it right away.”
Evelyn frowned, her eyes narrowing. “A darkspawn bit you? Gods, Miri!” Her voice held a note of alarm.
Miriam nodded, her gaze dropping to the scar, her fingers twitching as if the urge to scratch was overwhelming. “It’s been itching… terribly. I thought maybe I didn’t heal it properly, but… now it feels worse. Like there’s something wrong under the skin.” Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear she was trying to suppress.
Before Evelyn could respond, Oghren, who had been listening from across the fire, stood up abruptly. His normally jovial expression had turned deadly serious. “Let me see that,” he grunted, moving closer. Sorin, too, had opened his eyes, his expression grim as he came to join them.
Miriam hesitated, her eyes darting between them, but eventually, she held out her hand. The scar was red and angry, and the flesh around it was swollen, the edges blackened with an unnatural hue. Oghren knelt beside her, studying it for a long moment, his face darkening.
“It’s the taint,” the dwarf said flatly, his voice lacking its usual rough humor. “That bite didn’t just break the skin—it’s infected you.”
Miriam’s breath hitched, and she pulled her hand back, staring at the wound as if it were a death sentence. “I… I healed it,” she whispered, her voice small and shaky. “I used my magic, I thought I stopped it…”
“The taint doesn’t care about magic,” Sorin said softly, his voice filled with the weight of harsh experience. He sat down beside her, his face grim. “It spreads through blood, through wounds. If it’s in you now, it’ll start to take hold.”
Miriam’s eyes filled with tears, her breath coming faster as panic set in. “What will happen to me?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Andraste preserve me! Am I going to… turn?”
There was a long, heavy silence. Even Oghren didn’t speak. He just took a swig from his flask, his eyes avoiding hers. Evelyn’s heart clenched. She had saved the mage from slavery only to perish in the Deep Roads.
Finally, Sorin broke the silence, his voice low and steady. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
Miriam looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Sorin hesitated, glancing at the others. Then he met her gaze, his expression hard but not unkind. “There’s a chance… a slim one. If you join the Grey Wardens.”
Oghren grunted in agreement. “It’s the only way to survive the taint. The Joining can stop it from taking over.”
Miriam’s breath caught, and she looked between them all, confusion and fear etched across her face. “The Grey Wardens? But… I’ve heard about the Joining. People die from it.”
“Yes,” Sorin admitted, his voice soft. “Many don’t survive. But it’s the only way to stop the taint once it’s inside you.”
The weight of his words hung in the air like a death sentence. Miriam closed her eyes, her hand trembling as she clutched her palm. She took a shaky breath. “So… it’s either I turn into a Maker-forsaken monster or risk dying in the Joining.”
Sorin nodded solemnly. “It’s a risk. But there’s a chance. And it’s better than the alternative.”
For a long moment, Miriam said nothing, her face pale and her eyes filled with fear. Evelyn could see the war waging inside her—the terror of the taint, the unknown of the Joining, and the desperate hope that somehow, she could survive.
Evelyn reached out her hand and placed it on her shoulder, it seemed to have a calming effect on the healer. “I… I’ll do it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ll take the chance.”
Sorin gave her a sad but resolute nod. “Then we’ll see it through together.”
The hours that followed were tense and agonizing. After the decision was made, Sorin and Oghren wasted no time. Without much explanation, together with Miriam they gathered their gear and ventured to find some privacy for the ritual.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Evelyn and her brother waited by the small fire. The silence between them was thick with unspoken fears. But it wasn’t just Miriam’s fate that troubled her. She thought of her almost-twin. The gods had blessed her with powerful magic, something that would protect her from the taint, but what of Owayne? What if the day came when the taint found him?
"What if it’s your turn next?" she muttered, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.
"Stop," Owayne cut in, his tone casual but forced. "I am tougher than you think. I will be fine."
Evelyn shot him a frustrated glance. "You don’t know that. No one does. This isn’t something one can just fight off. The taint doesn’t care how skilled you are."
Owayne gave her a lopsided grin, trying to deflect her concern as he always did — like she always did too. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I made too many promises to that hulking blonde husband of yours about your safety to go back on my word now.” He nudged her with his elbow, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, worrying’s not gonna help. If anything, it’ll give you wrinkles.”
Evelyn’s frown deepened. "Owayne..."
He opened his mouth to respond with some quip, but before he could, the sound of footsteps echoed from deeper in the tunnel. The Grey Wardens had returned.
Sorin strode into the light, carrying Miriam in his arms, her body limp. His face was grim, his eyes dark with worry as he carefully set her down by the fire. Oghren followed behind, unusually quiet, his expression somber as well—a rare sight for the dwarf.
Evelyn’s heart sank as she sat up as much as she could still too weak to do much else. The healer looked peaceful, as if merely asleep, but there was no telling what was happening inside her.
Sorin knelt beside her, looking at Evelyn with a heavy sigh. "The ritual’s done," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Now, we wait. If she wakes, she’ll be one of us. If not…" He trailed off, his expression tightening. “Then let her soul find its way to the Maker. She could feel the tension radiating from the Warden, though he kept his composure. The dwarf had taken his place on the other side of the fire, downing a long swig from his flask. No one spoke. There was nothing left to say.
The fire crackled softly, its light flickering over their weary faces, casting long shadows on the walls of the tunnel. The silence was heavy, each minute that passed dragging out into what felt like hours. They all kept their eyes on the healer’s still form, waiting, hoping, dreading what might happen next.
Then, suddenly, Miriam gasped.
Her body convulsed as her chest heaved, and her eyes snapped open, wide and wild as if she had just surfaced from drowning. The sound of her sharp, panicked breath cut through the tense quiet like a blade.
Having regained some strength, Evelyn scrambled closer, her heart lurching in her chest. Miriam’s hands clutched at the ground, fingers digging into the dirt as if trying to ground herself. Her eyes darted around, unseeing, as her body trembled violently.
“Miri!” Evelyn called, her voice urgent.
Miriam’s eyes finally found Evelyn’s, but they were glassy, distant as if she were looking through her. She gasped again, her breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts, and her whole body shook with the force of it.
Sorin was at her other side in an instant, his face pale but focused. “Breathe, Miriam,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice calm. “You’re alright. You’re with us. You made it.”
Miriam’s gaze flicked between them, her chest still heaving. Slowly, the wildness in her eyes began to fade, replaced by confusion and fear. “I… I saw them,” she whispered, her voice raspy, barely audible. “The darkspawn. They were in my mind. Crawling, clawing inside me…” She shuddered, her hands trembling as she clutched at Sorin’s arm. “I could hear them. Their voices… whispering…”
Sorin’s grip tightened on her shoulder, grounding her. “It’s the taint,” he said quietly, though his voice held a comforting firmness. “It’s part of being a Warden. You’ll hear them sometimes, but you’re strong. You can bear it.”
Miriam nodded weakly, her breath slowing as she began to calm down, though the fear in her eyes remained. “I… I’m still here,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “I’m still me.”
Evelyn exhaled in relief as she watched her friend slowly regain herself.
Oghren chuckled, but it was laced with relief. “Welcome to the club, lass.”
Miriam let out a shaky breath, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Lucky me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, but there was a glimmer of humor in her eyes now.
Sorin watched her closely, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You’ll need to rest. It takes time to adjust after the Joining. I think we all need a good rest.”
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Evelyn opened her eyes in the Fade but felt different– and colder. The Land of Dreams hardly offered any physical sensations but she could feel the temperature dropping as she looked at her fingernails turning purple. Around her was a throne room coated in frost accompanied by the sound of icicles chiming. Hugging herself, she approached the empty dais, taking in the cold decorations that lined the room.
Odd-looking humanoids posed frozen in their fighting stances. Each one’s head was angled up as if whoever they were fighting was very tall. If she had to guess at what they were, they reminded her of the Avvar gods, painted with striking features. When a hot stream of air blew out of one’s mouth, she froze in terror, holding her breath. Tiptoeing away and toward the throne, she was unaware she wasn’t alone.
"Phoenix," the low gravelly voice of Hakkon echoed through the room causing the ice to tremble, "welcome to my realm. I know it's not to your taste." He scrunched his ghost-white nose up, "Too much ice, hmm? How it came to be that Fate brought me my antithesis is beyond even my understanding."
"Lord Hakkon," she bowed her head and tried to keep her shivering from affecting her voice. “What are they?”
He followed her finger to the figures arranged around the room. “They are my trophies. The spoils of great battles I have fought against the other immortals and won. Do not fear them, only I can release them, and no desire to do so.”
She sighed with some relief though part of her wouldn’t put it past him to test her against one. "Why am I here?"
His glowing red irises gazed upon her studying something, "I wanted to see how my gifts were coming along."
Holding up her marked hand and placing the other on her belly marks, she looked at him curiously, "Fine?"
A booming laugh shook the room, as did his footsteps as he rose from his frozen throne. His towering figure would cause any mortal to step back, but not The Phoenix. The two were well acquainted, so when he stood before her drawing himself down to her size, she hardly faltered. Hakkon's sharp facial features were only emphasized more by the black jagged lines that were painted on his ghastly pale skin. His clawed hand seized her wrist looking it over the mark, but then he chuckled again, showing his pointed teeth.
"I was not speaking of my mark, Phoenix," he glided his hand over to her stomach rubbing it almost affectionately. Even through her clothes, she could feel how cold his touch was. "How are my new pets faring?" A sinking dread bloomed in her chest causing her to meet his gaze. He rolled his eyes, "Oh yes, you mortals stand on ceremony for this kind of thing... well, too bad I'm not one. Congratulations, you're with children."
Evelyn balked back, blinking at him like he was touched. "Isn't it 'child'? You know, 'you're with child.'"
He shook his head, "No, Phoenix, that would only suffice if you had one growing in your womb." He patted her belly, "You have three."