Jessa dove to stop Redmun's skull cracking against the stone. Completely unconscious. “Gods damn it all.”

Oh dear. Dead, is he?

“Shut up, bitch!”

“The Gods are here!” Cielaine said, crawling towards. Her eyeless sockets were locked on Redmun. “Their Light is in this room! Bask in it, Possessor! Bask and be purified!”

Jessa stood. “You can shut up as well.” She planted her wounded foot on the ground, and swung her other. The heavy boot collided with the Saint's jaw – she felt it crack. Cielaine's skull hit the ground as hard as Redmun's would have.

Her maimed foot proved too little to maintain her balance, and Jessa fell herself. Growling, she rose, and prodded the Saint. Unconscious, or dead. It hardly mattered which.

“What happened?” It was the Captain, stepping past the meandering Ichor-people towards them.

Jessa had no idea, but saying that would help nothing. Best that these people imagine what happened today was the end of it. “Get me supplies, and a sled to carry them in,” she said, looking Redmun over. Beside his hand and ruined clothes, she saw nothing amiss.

Right, nothing but glowing with that Light of his, grinning like… Like the Saint. Jessa shut her eyes and gritted her teeth against the shiver that sight sent through her. Redmun was alright. He'd come back, and he'd fought off Gelstadt. They'd saved Lutmouth. That was good, right?

So why did she feel so damned terrified?

You should have left him, Mistress, the Banshee whispered in her ear. You should have been rid of him long ago. He's been nothing but-

“Shut up, bitch.” She touched the part of her that had been burned. The arm the Banshee lived in. Redmun hadn't heard them scream together the second time, had barely noticed her at all. That pain had been horrific. Not in its amount but in its sweetness. She'd felt only the edge of it before, but being touched by him while he was gorged in the thing's light – how Redmun stood living with that thing in his chest, Jessa didn't know. She'd almost crumbled just from that single contact.

Jessa shook her head. They needed to get moving. They needed to be gone.

Brooker was still standing there. His men were fighting off the last of the Ichor-people, throwing things at them. The more stuff they absorbed, the slower they moved until they finally stopped. Why?

“I said-”

“I heard what you said, Possessor, but I can't let you leave.” He glanced at the Saint, at the pool of black, rainbow-sheened ooze that was their entrance. “Not until I have answers.”

Jessa stood. Her hand trembled with her rage, and she wasn't feeling particularly willing to hold it back. “Get my supplies. Now.” With her Banshee's claw – the screams came, but Jessa refused to hear – she grabbed an axe from the abandoned weapon pile, and cleaved the last ichor-man in two, letting the melting axe drop. “NOW!”

Some few soldiers burst into motion. The ones in the front, who had seen the most fighting, just fell to their knees. Some started weeping, others just sat, staring at the puddles that had once been their friends – that could have been them.

Brooker just stared her down. With Redmun's unconscious body at her feet, Jessa felt like a den mother protecting her cubs, and right then she was feeling particularly vicious.

Eventually the requested sled and supplies came, and Brooker looked away. Jessa dragged Redmun onto the back. The three sacks of supplies she dropped onto him, and grabbed the handles. She shot one last challenging look to Brooker, and one hateful look at the Saint. Gods, but she hoped that one was dead.

The Banshee's claw dug around the pool of ooze steadily sinking into the earth. The screaming in her ears was agony, and meaningless. Jessa dragged Redmun through the ruined entrance they'd come through only a few days before, her right foot still aching horribly, still bleeding. She'd feel the loss of that blood by the end of the day.

Jessa set off across the plains, seeing the trail Gelstadt had left in his wake, both coming and going. The fresher of the two headed off to the north-east. To Khelvorias. Not good, but it could wait until later. She had ground to cover to the next tree, and dragging Redmun, she'd have to take the long route to avoid any falls or rises, and whatever awaited them atop it was already awake.

I do so hope we make it, the Banshee whispered, all faux worry and sympathy.

“Be quiet.” It was going to be a long day. Jessa hunched her back, set her jaw, and walked.

***

A void of scorching clouds. They swirled about before Redmun's unblinking eyes, incandescent and dazzling. Heat like the sun itself raged against his skin and mind, so fierce that he ought to be cooking, feeling sweeter than the smell would be. That blinding Light formed once more into that stationary figure, standing before him, watching.

“Frail Redmun,” it said. “Well done.”

“Go to hell!” Redmun heard his voice say, the words ragged and feral. Something had changed. That he could talk at all was new, and terrifying. His body felt more real here than before, and the pain, while incredible, was less. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. You wielded my power. We were one.”

“You did something. That buzzing.”

“We spoke. That was your 'buzzing'.”

“What?” Redmun asked, but figure said nothing. The light around him burned, his mind edging with that madness that had taken him. His terror of returning to that point battled with his anger, and his sadness. “You and… it?”

“We spoke.”

Redmun took what might have been a deep breath, if he had lungs to draw air, or air to draw from. “Speak sense!”

“And we agreed conflict was inevitable.”

Redmun tried to move forward, to warp his hand around the thing's neck. Whatever restraints held him kept. “It's time you tell me, Evil.”

“Perhaps you are right. The path is set.” It paused, the man-like form moving fractionally closer. “Only, we are stronger as one. Do you not see?”

Redmun stared at the being, at the blinding purity surrounding him, dumbfounded. Then he laughed. And he laughed hard.

“I will never tire of your games, Evil, but this is a poor one,” he said, and laughed in the thing's face as hard as the pain would allow.

The clouds of white churned around him, like a coming storm. “You think I play games, Redmun.” The Evil moved closer. Or was it Redmun that was pulled forward? Redmun stopped laughing, then he couldn't laugh, then he couldn't breathe; it was crushing him as it drew him closer, incinerating his soul. “For all these years, you have thought me a trickster, a fiend. An Evil.” It's sagely voice lost the patience it had always held. “No longer.” The burning strengthened. It started at his chest, and seemed to crawl under his skin.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You speak of my light that burns. I know how it pains you, Frail Redmun, to resist it every day and every night. I know how its rapturous cleansing taunts you, how you wish it would come and how you wish it would go. You think it is a game I play.” That burning crawled behind his eyes. Into his mind. Into his soul. Still, he listened.

“I let you misunderstand, for it did not matter. You did not matter. No longer.

“We are joined; you shall never be free of me, just as I shall never be free of you.

“I will not tell you what was said. I will not tell you what we are. I will tell you only this; the pain you feel that comes from your heart is a pain you inflict upon yourself.

“Our path is set, and our purposes are aligned. We will face Gelstadt and his Abyssal thing, it is what must be. Resist if you must, suffer if you must.

“But when the time comes, if you do not accept this truth, we shall both perish. Your Father, my Sibling, will walk this land unchecked, and all you have fought for, all you have strived to protect will choke and die. Do not doubt.”

The force let go, threw him away, but not out. Redmun remained in that place, not breathing, exactly, but panting nevertheless.

“Is this why you chose me?” Redmun spat the words out. “You knew that Gelstadt, that that thing was moving, and you had to move too.” And no doubt more – the luring to Dark's Forest, the death of his Master, the fall of Potsdoor – what else had it done that Redmun could never know? What other games was it playing? His heart should have been racing, his eyes tearing up, his voice cracking with fear. He felt none of it, and it was awful. “This was all so you could face it.”

“Yes.”

“And what then?”

“That depends on you, Redmun,” the Evil said, and the figure spread its hands. As if the thing was even trying to appear human. “You see the power on your hands? The power to save the world. And you refuse it. You call me cruel?”

Redmun tried to respond, but he was already falling. Tumbling out of the dream. The white faded to black.

***

At first there was peace, the crackling of a fire resounding in that cool, empty space. Beside it, the stillness of being underground was a cool, crisp silence. At first there was only peace, and rest. Then came the memories, and the pain.

Redmun took a gasping breath, shooting up. A hand forced him down. “Stay put.”

He didn't answer immediately, only looked at her, and felt confused at the act of looking. He slowly brought his hand up. Gone. Cauterized, but gone.

Words and sensations from the dream still lingered. The words, the pain, the anger. Strangely, everything had seemed clearer there, as if all his memories were before him, waiting to be summoned. Recollection was not so simple now, and his mind slogged to remember what had happened. “Gelstadt?”

Jessa's face appeared. Her brow was bloody, red liquid leaking from a wound on her forehead. “Gone.”

Redmun eased himself up. Tangled roots hung as a curtain around them, holding off soft earth. The beginnings of a fire in the centre, next to a sled of bags and blankets and water. A pool of blood rested around Jessa's foot, with more dripping from her arm, and head.

“What happened?” he asked.

“A lot,” she said, stretching for some bandages. She worked at the ties on her boot. “You collapsed, I got us some supplies and dragged us here. Took me all day and some of the night, but…” The boot came off with a grunt. Jessa gave the soggy mess a reproachful glare, and set to work. “But the harpies nested here didn't like that. Cried almost as loud as this one when I cut them down.” She slapped her still covered arm. “Oh, and I broke the the Saint's jaw. Maybe killed her.”

“Why?”

“She was scrambling all over you, calling you the God's messenger and all that. Pff.”

Redmun gave a slow nod. “Fair enough.” He struggled up to his feet, almost fell. His body felt weak, or heavier, and the world seemed to swim around him. The missing fingers on his right hand stung like hellfire.

“So,” Jessa said, not looking up from re-binding her stumped foot. “Tell me. What happened back there?”

Redmun scratched his chin, feeling meek. Anger from Jessa was one thing, but this his quiet asking... “I… I healed my wounds, like you said, and it was just too much.” Redmun stared into the darkness, though his mind's eye was filled with that light, and the memory of his mind's ravings. That must be how Cielaine feels. That made him cringe. “Why? What did you see?”

“You were glowing like the sun, looked fucking euphoric with it.” She said it cold. “And you…” She stopped to take a deep breath. She took the chance to tie the bandage on her foot, and moved onto her arm. “You touched me, where the Bitch lives. Damn near burned her out of me.”

Guilt wrenched at him. He remembered that contact only vaguely, but his pleasure at her pain was clear in his mind, and it made him sick. Clearly, though, it made her feel even worse. Jessa wasn't meeting his eye, working at the bandage with angered motions. He needed to make it up to her, but she was all but allergic to soft words and gentle promises.

“I got something out of it,” he said with a grin.

“Oh?”

“Two, actually, beside the fact that I came back. I didn't get sucked in completely. Firstly, that it thinks its purity, not light. Which I think is interesting. And the other, more important thing, is that it called Gelstadt's Evil it's 'sibling.'”

Jessa stopped her ministrations, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Not sure what to make of that, but hey. I listened to you. Got some answers.” He tried to maintain the grin. It felt false on his face. Jessa just looked at him, bland as can be. All Redmun's bluffing fell apart. “Jessa, it's alright. I came back.”

Jessa shook her head. “Just forget it, Redmun.”

And that was that. No use in pushing Jessa – she'd just push back.

He sat down beside her, grabbed a roll of his own bandages, and set to work wrapping up his hand. He couldn't move what remained of his fingers, and most of the flesh on the palm side was gone. Painful, and every touch made it worse.

Healing was his, if he wanted it. He didn't. How long would it take him to snap out of it next time? Would he even be able to? No, he'd use the Evil's power when he had to, but no sooner. He had to walk the fine line between. If there was one.

“Did you see where Gelstadt went?”

“East.”

“Hmm. Why do you think?”

Jessa shrugged. She'd bandaged up most of her wounds, and began with some stitches on her forehead, feeling her way through the process. Redmun didn't bother offering to help. “Khelvorias is that way. To find Rose maybe?”

Redmun shook his head. “I don't know. Didn't seem like Gelstadt was in control. Why would he be able to tell it where to go?”

“He got the thing to stop, didn't he? For a time.” She winced as the needle dug in to her flesh. “Who knows what goes on there. Normal Abominations, the Possessor's dead. He's not.”

Redmun nodded at that, remembering the look in Gelstadt's eyes. Sadness, confusion, anger. He'd been with that thing longer than Redmun had been alive. What must it be like, being worn by something that horrific?

Redmun closed his eyes, his emotions rushing up to him. Sadness at his father's Fate, a strange sense of… satisfaction that someone else had shared in Rose's ministrations. As if Redmun now had someone he could speak to. In that and more, Redmun and his father were shockingly similar. There was a comfort to that, but also a terror. How close was he to falling, as Gelstadt had fallen. Only now he understood what had done it. Rose.

“We have to kill him,” Redmun said. The words felt physical, like a promise made real. “We have to end things.”

Jessa looked at him, and nodded. “We still going to find Rose?”

“Yes. I need to talk to her, anyway. But I think…” Redmun stopped. The idea was horrible, but plenty in life was, and Gelstadt had to be stopped. “Maybe we can use her against him. Make him hesitate, or rush in too quick. I don't know.” He finished wrapping up his hand, holding his handiwork in the light to examine.

“You gonna be alright?” Jessa asked.

“Yeah. You were right. We've been wandering for too long. We have to finish this.”

“There's the other problem that nothing seems to hurt him, except you, as far as we know,” Jessa said, throwing away the old bandages. “I know I couldn't do shit.” Redmun hummed in agreement, but had nothing to say. Even half mad and shining like the sun he hadn't won. “By the way, you're dragging me tomorrow. Gotta stay off my feet you know?”

Redmun smiled, and nodded.

Gelstadt's trail began to veer north.

“Looks like he's heading for Three-King's,” Redmun said. He peered up the trailing, his hand blocking the mid-day sun. They'd made slow progress along Gelstadt's path, winding this way and that to avoid rises and falls.

“Looks like it,” Jessa replied over a mouth full of Jerky. She'd taken a lounging position, using the sacks as pillows while Redmun pulled. A 'lookout' position, she called it. “Rose there?”

Redmun just adjusted the rope about his chest and kept pulling. “Nope. She's down in Travven, I think.” After about ten years of searching she'd decided to take on the task of searching through reports and sightings. Often that meant drinking in bars and gambling. “Do you… do you reckon he'll be able to get through the wall?”

Silence punctuated the question before Jessa answered. “I don't know.”

“Me neither.” A heavy weight settled in his stomach, a dark feeling of dread. He'd been slow to get through Lutmouth's gate, and Khelvorias's wall was tens of feet of solid stone. That might buy them time, but not enough. Travven was somewhere in the middle of Khelvorias. A long way from Three-King's Redoubt. They were going to be late. Maybe too late.