Suddenly Kreet no longer was in the cavern with the Mind Flayer. She was, however, in a cavern. She knew she was far, far away from where she had been. Miles… Years… Decades. She wore armor, and under that she wore a chain mail shirt. She wielded a second-rate but serviceable sword. She had no tail, but she had… Oh my god, she was male! She felt the mustaches that were her trademark under the helm. She was Mekelson. A younger Mekelson, but she was him. She knew his thoughts, she knew his lusts, his dreams, his loves and his hates. A flood of knowledge filled her mind. In an instant she knew the man because she was the man. Knew him and loathed him. The things he had done were horrible. She closed her senses and tried to shut out the vision before her, but she couldn’t. She watched helplessly from the back of the young Mekelson’s mind as he tore through the kobolds in front of him. And they were familiar to her mind. She knew these people, but to Mekelson they were just animals. She watched in horror, unable to stop the images from flowing into her. The thoughts, the sounds, the smells…

After much too long, she found herself back in the room with the Mind Flayer. She could not look at Mekelson. She couldn’t think of him. She couldn’t stand to be near him. She looked up and saw Karl back away from him as well. But her Master, the paladin Quint’s eyes grew wide in horror. Not at Mekelson, but at the Mind Flayer.

“Don’t do this,” he said, pleading.

“Oh, you want to be next?” said a voice in their heads. “You, the great Paladin? The hero of the battle of the Cairn? The great Quint? You didn’t tell your students about this, did you. You told no one. Why? Don’t you want them to know the truth? You say you serve the great Pelor. But he was not the god you served that day, was he, paladin?

Suddenly she was whisked away to another time, another place. She wanted to stop it. She wanted to shut her eyes - but she had no control over her eyes. They were attached to the optic nerves of a younger Quint. She could not stop hearing, because the sound came from Quint’s ears. What she heard now she couldn’t stop hearing. They were babies. They may have been enemies, but they were babies. She screamed without a mouth at the mind that she was watching.

"STOP IT! STOP MOVING YOUR ARM! FOR YOUR SOUL’S SAKE, QUINT, STOP IT!”

But he could not - would not stop. He didn’t want to stop and he couldn’t hear her. She was in his future, not his now. She knew his mind in a way no one should know another’s mind. She knew why he was doing this. His friends had been slaughtered around him during the battle. The enemy had used evil magics, evil tactics, evil… evil… EVIL. Now he was divine justice, and he was unstoppable. Nothing they could do could stop him, because he had the power of the War God behind him. He would continue until every green-skinned, fanged maw was silent forever.

And Kreet knew what would happen. She knew the carnage he had wrought that day. Not one left alive. All as revenge for his own friend’s lives. He was Revenge Incarnate. Worse, she knew what would happen when he was done. She knew what would happen when the blood-rage left his eyes and he beheld what he had become. The years of loathing and self-mutilation he would endure. All knowing that what he was doing now… right now… could never be undone. These innocents could never be restored. They were lost forever.

And then she was back again. In her own body. She put her hands over her eyes, crying for Quint’s soul as much as for the loss of all those he had killed.

Quint was allowed to fall to his knees in front of Brand. They all looked at him with revulsion. Even Mekelson looked horrified at what the Paladin had done.

“My God man, at least the kobolds were attacking me!”

Quint’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t say anything. He looked at Kreet, but she couldn’t return the gaze. She was failing, she knew. The path of Pelor insisted she find the Good, help the Needy. But there was no help for this man. She had called him Master once. That she could never do again. She looked back at Mekelson. He was a fiend, but compared to Quint…

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“Oh Quint,” she said, still not able to look at him. “What are we doing here? We should never have come.”

“No,” said the voice in her head. “You especially should not have. I didn’t want you! When I surveyed this other man’s mind, I saw his loathing for the woman who drove you away from your Monastery. If I could snatch the child away and bring it back here, the father must surely come. But you? You are nothing. You shouldn’t be here. You should be back at your tavern, spilling beer. These… I can use these! I would send you back, but there is one here who still holds affection for you. This ‘Brand’. And he has his own talents, I know. His rage burns hot.”

The Mind Flayer turned to Brand. “You may speak.”

Suddenly Brand fell to his knees beside Quint as if released from a self-imposed restraint.

“Kreet!” he cried, but then he ran to the dais, skirting the pit and knelt in front of the Mind Flayer.

“Please, Lord. Let me die. Don’t let her see. I beg you. Please, let me die first!?”

“I am not a cruel master, young Cleric. You may die,” the creature said with what felt like sincere compassion in her mind.

Brand turned around, facing the pit.

“BRAND!” she screamed. “NO!”

The man she had known and loved stepped down from the Dias. He looked to the Flayer, who nodded, and stepped around the yawning hole.

“Kreet,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “The Lord is true. So goddamnedly true. I’ve done things. I hated them so much for what they did to you. HATED them. That Vosa most of all. She knew what she was doing. She broke us apart, Kreet. Put you through that damned Tribunal. But…”

He looked back at the Mind Flayer.

“He twists things, Kreet. In my head. Oh gods, please let me die before you see. You were always so good. I don’t want you to see me. Not like he does it. Kreet, I am ashamed to death. I would rather die than for you to see what I’ve done this last year. I love you Kreet, in my way. Scales and tail and goofy snout, I love you. I screwed up Kreet. I screwed up bad. PLEASE let me die. Please, remember me like you did… before.”

The voice began again in her head, such a silky, caring voice, “What would you like, little kobold? I’ll let you decide. Your Lord is a merciful Lord, little kobold. You can decide. He can live and you can know the truth, or he can die and you can live in ignorance of who he really is. Which do you prefer? I promise to abide by your wishes, little kobold. He is a Cleric, true, but a minor Cleric. Nothing like this one you brought with you! I can lose him.”

“Brand! I can’t let you die! I just found you again!”

“No, Kreet, this isn’t me! What I’ve done… it’s not me anymore!”

“She’s made her decision, Brand. Let us begin.”

“NO!” Brand screamed and ran towards the pit. The tendrils on the Mind Flayer never stopped their patterns, Kreet noticed.

“BRAND! DON’T!” she called after him but he wouldn’t stop. She looked away, not able to watch him commit suicide.

But inches from falling into the pit, Brand stopped.

“No Brand. This is not what she wants. We must give her what she wants, Brand.”

“Wait,” Kreet said, standing up and walking forward. “I have a better idea. Lord, show him… me.”

“You, little kobold? Your sins are puny. What would be the point. He has so much to show you. No, let’s not. Your life is boring.”

She took hold of Brand’s hands and looked up at his wild eyes, ready to commit suicide just moments ago but prevented.

“Brand, you think I’m so good. I’m not good, Brand. No one is. We have good and bad within us, but we are constantly in transition from one to the other. We flow, Brand. Like a river, we are never the same person twice. The person I am today is not the person I was yesterday, nor the person I will be tomorrow. You are the same.”

“Yes, Brand,” said the voice. “You may speak. But step away from the pit, please.”

“Kreet. You don’t know me. I don’t want you to know me. I’m not who you think I am.”

“Of course you’re not,” she laughed. The sound was odd in the chamber, with all of the eyes on them, but she didn’t care anymore. She was holding hands with Brand, and, for a moment, that’s all she cared about.

“But Brand, your mistake is that you think you know me. You don’t Brand. I want your Lord to let you know what I am, who I am. Then, maybe, you’ll know that your sins are forgivable. We all have sinned, Brand. We can’t help it. We aren’t gods. We sin.”

“Yes, you do. Let’s look at your Kreet, Brand. Your beloved little kobold. She’s a killing beast, Brand. Behold…”