Catherine was having trouble processing what happened. She had been convinced that the girl was a figment of her imagination, born of lonely desperation and the odachi's influence. Yet as soon as she had touched the sword she knew that what she saw was no illusion. The hilt was a conduit for the unstable collective consciousnesses within, and she felt no trace of their influence. And then there were the girl's words, the weight of which had not lightened over time.

The consequences of her actions gnawed at her.

Catherine had ruined that girl's life.

Currently she sliced herself a path through a dense thicket of thorny bushes, her blade cutting through the tangled undergrowth effortlessly. Her fight with the monster had not seemed to dull the blade at all; if anything, it now seemed even sharper.

She followed the faint trail left behind by some animal. Of what animal, she couldn't say. But these signs were recent, and her conjurer's sense had somehow not detected this newcomer that had come so near to her camp. Besides, she was bored and wondered where the trail led.

Lost in a fog of numbness for the last two days, she let her mind wander everywhere but to the girl. Still, thoughts would creep in. She had traveled so far, endured so much, and for what? To frame her crush for murder, to strip her of her home and her livelihood? Oh, how her growing depression would seize upon that, if she let herself dwell on it! So she tried not to.

It was a losing battle.

"She is likely dead," she said. "One of the predators around here must have gotten to her by now."

Upon finding some tracks, she stopped to kneel down. These were not from any creature she recognized. Instead, they bore an uncanny resemblance to bootprints.

As she examined the distinct outlines etched into the soil, a tingling sense of alarm began to spread through her.

They couldn't have been from the girl. One of the reasons she had dismissed her as a hallucination was because of her bare feet, as illogical as that choice was in a forest. Besides, these prints were too large.

She felt her sword grow cold and start to vibrate. A rush of movement in the leaves behind her caused her to tense, her senses on high alert.

She braced herself.

Just as she stood and turned, a snake struck from the bushes. Reacting on pure instinct, Catherine was just fast and lucky enough to narrowly avoid the serpent's bite. But as she stumbled backward, her foot caught on a hidden root, sending her sprawling to the ground with a pained cry.

That is when the droms pounced.

Feathered beasts with teeth instead of beaks, the droms were like many other predators found in the Mietha, creatures halfway between bird and reptile. They were fast, agile, and deadly, their sickle-like talons capable of inflicting grievous harm with terrifying efficiency.

One pinned her before she could get off of the ground. It could have killed her, but its predatory instincts seemed to be restrained by an unseen force. Another drom seized her ankle in its jaws, its teeth sinking into her flesh as it dragged her through the underbrush, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

She was pulled into a clearing, where roots emerged from the bare earth like sinuous worms, coiling around her limbs with a vice-like grip, rendering her helpless and immobile. No matter how she thrashed and struggled, they held fast, binding her to the ground.

Meanwhile, the two droms quickly moved away and loomed ominously at the edge of the clearing, their predatory gaze locked on her. Despite their distance, Catherine could sense the anticipation radiating from their feathered forms, like trained animals waiting for a signal.

The roots remained unmoved by her efforts. All she could do was watch and wait as a cowled man emerged from the opposite side that she was dragged from.

"Pathetic little girl," the man said. "You didn't even put up a fight. I can smell the magic on you though. You've dabbled, haven't you?"

Catherine tried to stay calm but her conjurer's sense was practically screaming that he was a threat. There was power there, a kind of energy unlike anything she had ever sensed.

"Who are you?" she tried to ask without showing her fear.

A second figure emerged from behind the first. This one was a woman and a head shorter than the man. They both wore the same style of red robe. With a subtle gesture, the woman commanded the roots to raise Catherine to her feet, their serpentine coils maintaining a tight grip as they lifted her from the forest floor. Though still bound, Catherine found herself standing upright. Her gaze fixed itself on the figures before her.

The man said, "I am Boaz and this is Dahlia. We are students of Vane." His voice was laced with a hint of superiority. "You've never even glimpsed a true conjurer before, have you?"

The woman's mocking laughter rang out beside him. "I bet she fancies herself a goddess with whatever paltry tricks she's learned up here in the wastes," she remarked. "Just look at the anger in her eyes. This must be positively humiliating."

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Drawing closer to Catherine, the man scrutinized her with a critical eye. "You don't appear to be a thrall of the blade," he observed. "How utterly perplexing. And worthy of further study."

"What do you want from me?" Catherine demanded.

"I dispatched my tracker here to find my master's lost specimen, and stumbled upon something far more intriguing," the man explained. "The Katherine, and a wielder who appears to be anything but a mindless pawn. You slew one of my most powerful minions. But this discovery may prove more than worth the loss."

Turning to the woman with a look of anticipation, he continued, "Perhaps someone has indeed found a way to break the curse, Dahl. Now is the time to put your hypothesis to the test."

Dahlia strode past the man with purpose, stepping up to Catherine. "She possesses the blade, yet the blade does not possess her. Clearly, not the result of her own power or skill. Else she would have mastered it and carved a name for herself instead of hiding in this squalor," she remarked. "It is clear then, that whoever she stole it from must have somehow cleansed it of its curse."

Ignoring Catherine's feeble attempts to resist, the woman reached for the sword at Catherine's side, drawing it from its sheath with a triumphant flourish as she said, "It belongs with someone that can unlock its true potential! With this, we will wield power surpassing that of Vane! Greater even than Sierrix!"

Catherine watched helplessly as the woman held the blade aloft, grinning at it gleefully. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Catherine's stomach.

Dahlia's laugher rose steadily, then stopped abruptly. "What was that?" she questioned, her voice tinged with unease as she glanced at the man.

"I didn't say anything," Boaz replied as he raised his hands.

"You whispered something," she insisted. "And you!" she exclaimed, pointing the sword accusingly at Catherine. "You stop that!"

Backing away, Dahlia's eyes widened with alarm as she surveyed her surroundings. "We're not alone," she murmured, her voice shaking. Her movements grew erratic, her gaze darting to unseen threats only she could perceive. "All of you! I see your shadows! Come out!"

A palpable sense of dread hung in the air as a darkness began to spread from the woman's hands, tendrils of shadow snaking down her arms to her torso. "So thirsty," she muttered, her eyes fixating on the man with a haunting intensity.

With unnatural swiftness, the woman suddenly sped toward the man, her movements devoid of fluidity. Before she could close the distance, one of the droms launched itself at her to defend its master. The woman evaded the strike with a disturbing lack of grace, her body contorting and twisting as if she were a puppet controlled by unseen hands.

Despite her erratic movements, the drom proved no match for her supernatural speed. In a blur of motion, the woman struck out, and the drom fell to the ground. It lay lifeless and still, its form rent asunder by a blow it had not even seen. While the still-embedded blade fed like a mosquito, the man seized the chance to vanish into the bushes, along with the other drom.

"Lovely!" the woman breathed without voice, staring at the blade with a wide smile as it drained its victim.

With the woman's concentration gone, the roots no longer fought Catherine's attempts to pull herself free of them. With each tug and twist, she felt the bonds loosening, their once unyielding hold giving way as Catherine wrenched an arm loose. With that, she was able to pull the remaining roots off of her with relative ease.

Ignoring the pain from the bite wound the drom had given, she too ran from the clearing, stumbling through the dense underbrush. She lost her way in the maze of trees and shadows, not slowing until her breath began to come in ragged gasps, but each footfall was one more away from the nightmare behind her. Branches clawed at her skin and roots threatened to trip her at every turn, but at least these roots were unmoving.

Finally Catherine was stopped by a narrow stream cutting through her escape path. For a moment, she allowed herself to catch her breath and gather her thoughts as she checked her injury. The bite was not as bad as it felt; her boot had protected her. The puncture wounds left by the drom's teeth were no longer bleeding.

Then a bone-chilling scream pierced the air.

As Catherine hastily replaced her boot, she turned to face something horrible.

Emerging from the depths of the forest came the woman she had fled, her form twisted and contorted, still clutching the Katherine Odachi in her withered grasp. She resembled a mummified corpse, her body drained of life and vitality.

Across her chest was a deep, dried wound.

Catherine's heart sank, knowing all too well what that wound meant, as she had nearly inflicted it upon herself, once.

"You gave in," she said, sympathetically.

The woman's sunken eyes fixed upon Catherine, her gaze filled with an otherworldly thirst that sent a shuttering cold through Catherine's veins. There was no trace of humanity left in those eyes. The sword's new host lurched forward with an unnatural gait, her movements jerky and disjointed. With each step, she drew closer, the echo of her chilling scream still ringing in Catherine's ears.

The sword was lifted and came down so quickly that Catherine only had time to raise her arms to defend herself.

The blade cut deep into her left arm.

They fell together into the stream with the strike, the world turning to chaos as they grappled in the shallow currents. Catherine fought to keep her head above water, struggling against the unnatural strength of what was once Dahlia. The pain of her slashed arm and the icy shock of the water brought a new wave of adrenaline. Amid the frantic thrashing and splashing, she managed to wrench the Katherine Odachi from her attacker's grasp.

As she gained control of the weapon, she kicked her attacker away. Catherine's heart raced as she found her footing in the stream, the water rushing around her legs as she prepared to face the mummified woman once more.

But as soon as the thing that was once Dahlia had lost its hold on the blade, it became the corpse that it resembled. The puppet crumpled and was carried away by the current, its strings now cut.

Meanwhile, Catherine's vision was blurring around the edges. She did not dare to look at her arm. She knew the cut was bad, fatally bad, but the pain had become distant, replaced by a numb detachment. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but the light was too bright, and she had to squint to keep the blurriness at bay.

Her limbs became heavy, her thoughts muddled. The world spun.

"All that blood… lost. Wasteful."

Her body stopped listening to her commands. There was a ringing in her ears that drowned out even the stream she stood in.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. There was more blood in the water than when she fought the monster. The wound tingled as the sword worked to close it, but Catherine knew it was too late.

"I am… sorry, Rea… I don't think you'll want this tainted soul."

As her knees buckled and she collapsed into the water, the blur was already giving its way to darkness, consuming her vision… until there was nothing left.