Chapter 3: A Devil's Bargain

In the year 1122, the Judge Clerics began keeping track of the number of Ebertin’s people abducted and killed by the naga, and also the number of naga killed by the people of Ebertin. In the first year of record, there were 137 abducted and 54 humans killed by naga. There were also 23 naga killed by men. In 1336—the last year for which there are numbers—there were 897 abductions, 530 murders, and 393 naga killed by humans.

Although the current marks look high, they are far from the worst numbers. In the year 1306 it is written that 6,438 humans were abducted—mostly children. In the year 1125, a total of 25,423 were killed at the hand of naga, most of whom died as the fourth of Somerlie turned to the fifth, commonly called the Night of the Tooth.

The years 1309 and 1310 saw the most naga die by human hands, as an action dubbed The Low Burning culminated in 12,190 naga deaths the first year, and 13,761 naga deaths the second year. The Low Burning campaign involved 68 militias and over a 152,000 men. Also known as the Two-Year War, the conflict started six weeks into the year 1309, and ended three days into 1311. A total of 27,753 men died in the offensive, and the militias nearly doubled their holdings under the city.

However large these numbers appear, they are dwarfed by the greatest calamity of this long running conflict. In 1189, members of the Ebon Star Militia poisoned several underground canals. At the time, little was known of the complex network of canals, aquaducts, and sewers that ran through Beletrain. The nagas workings were exceptional and confounding. Most men dared not mess with the miraculous system, as it fed their cities water. The poisons were meant to cripple the naga—but only killed humans. Nearly one in ten died as a result of the ‘Bad Drink’ as it is commonly known. An official death toll was taken by the Judge Clerics: 108,242.

Riots ensued, as it came to light that Ebertin was poisoned by some of its own. 16 men and women were hanged for their parts in the crime, and another 30 served severe punishment. The Ebon Star militia was also forced to disband after the Muaha Dalinfoers and 126 militias declared them to be negligent in the extreme.

After all this, if you would ask; have nagas ever been abducted by humans? The answer is yes. But the Judge Clerics of Ebertin do not track these numbers, and assure us that if they did, the numbers would be quite low.

– On the Bloody Shores of Lake Kundilae, Wybrow the Wanderer, page 231

~!@#$%^&()+ 3.2 +)(&^%$#@!~

Scarred and unconscious, Krumpus lay in Aim’s massive arms—yet, his mind was open to a host of ethereal creatures, all but invisible to the others. Beings of radiant light and love swirled in the air about the shaman some of them almost too strange to describe. Thanks to her venom, Meu was connected to the shaman's mind, and because Krumpus could see these creatures, Meu could see them too.

And what a sight they were! They were the most beautiful things Meu had ever encountered! They were perfect in their manifest forms with brilliant eyes, pristine smiles—and for those that cared to wear clothing, elegant dress. The love and power that radiated from them was pure and beyond measure.

Meu did not worry for her friends. Wenifas was likely not even aware of how much trouble she was in, after her strange involvement in Kezodel’s death. Yet, Krumpus knew much about Traust and his friends, and so Meu knew about them too. Indeed the second, Duboha, knew the city better than most of its native inhabitants, and was well aware of the political temperature—especially where the city’s real power lay: within a network of militias large and small, that numbered in the hundreds. He knew most the major players and many of the minor—and he was just one of their new friends. Meu felt that Evereste, Claiten, Wenifas, and Krumpus were in good and capable hands, despite the great danger— and caught in the ecstasy of the shaman's vision, Meu couldn’t contain herself. As she entertained these strange and wonderful beasts, she saw a chance to break from the others. She licked her lips and kissed the priestess, then allowed their new companions to take the priestess and her progeny to safety.

Meu rose into the cloudless sky above Ebertin as she spun in exuberant spirals. The sun glared down from its zenith, and Meu danced in its rays. Despite its incredible heat and light, the sun could hardly compete for the wyrm's attention as she eavesdropped on the conversation between Krumpus and this heavenly host. Despite the burns he suffered from the lightning, Krumpus would be okay. Indeed, once he healed, the shaman would be more potent than ever, as his magics were increased and magnified by this strange host of ethereal visitors. But the shaman wasn't the only one to benefit. Meu could feel her own understanding and abilities stretch. Her amazement swelled as she beat her wings and climbed into thin air.

Words flowed quickly between these angelic beings and the shaman. Although Meu understood much of what was said, she knew there was a good deal she was missing. If only these beings talked to her, she might understand—but they did not. They spoke to the shaman, and their language was tailored to his understanding. Still, Meu marveled at what she witnessed, baffled that their potent magics were not only possible, but relatively easy! She realized many of her magics were overly difficult and complicated in the manner she used them, made so by her own fear and uncertainty. Through these creatures she realized magic was both incredibly simple and seemingly boundless!

Meu climbed higher and higher, and the city shrank below. Ebertin dwindled and the far shore of Lake Kundilae crept into view. She wheeled as excitement and strength poured through her, as the conversation between Krumpus and the others raced on and on and on. Meu would have sworn that weeks or months had past if it wasn’t for the slow march of the ever present sun above her.

Suddenly, the angelic council spoke no more. In their silence, they simply stared at the shaman, waiting expectantly.

No.

This host of incredible beings looked through the shaman. They observed the one attached to his mind. They witnessed Meu.

She was discovered!

Meu gazed in from the edge of the shaman's consciousness, suddenly unnerved. Her heart skipped a beat. She leveled out and spiraled in a lazy glide as she accepted the fact that she was known. Was she in trouble? Would these beings of light and power turn terrible? Would they destroy her for her trespass? She was sure they could. She wondered what wrath might pour form them and hoped only that her destruction would be immediate. She could not hope to deny them.

There will be no punishment, a kind spirit explained. Indeed, many of them recognized she was there from the start—how could it be otherwise? But it is not you alone, the creature told her. You have brought another. Do you not hear her?

For several seconds, Meu hung in the air. In a forgotten corner of her mind, she heard Wenifas plead and beg for rescue.

Meu had forgotten and ignored the priestess—and now her friend was in danger once more. Meu’s heart lurched. I am here! She called to Wenifas.

In a rush of relief, Wenifas told the wyrm what had happened. I heard her scream, and I saw her fall! Wenifas cried. Oh, but the worst was the sound she made when she hit the ground!

Despite close proximity to soldiers all her life, Wenifas rarely witnessed such open and immediate violence. She was used to the creeping secretive malevolence of the Corpus, hidden by the thick canvas of her own tent, and though she may scream, her screams were ignored by any passers-by once the seal of the disciple was discovered at her door.

The soldiers weren’t allowed to do violence without consent, though it occurred from time to time, but the church was another matter. The violence of a dark night, fists and feet, bites and bruises, strains, sprains, and all sorts of various pains... This is what Wenifas knew of violence; but there was only so much blood, and never death!

Wenifas was now somewhere under the city as she stumbled about in the dark. Wenifas held Evereste close as her son of nine years clung to her hand with one of his own. Pale faced and beginning to lurch, Elpis led the way as Scurra followed close behind, resolute—yet seeming so small.

The priestess’s commentary stopped. Something crept about in the dark. Scurra cursed as she dropped down, rolled away, and lost her torch. A mallet flashed out of the shadows and smashed at Elpis. His torch was dashed as it dropped to the ground. Claiten waved the last of the torches. He screamed as he saw the strange beast before him; long skinny arms, a wide flat tail, and scales all about.

The naga knocked the last torch from Claiten’s hand. Wenifas screamed as the beast shoved her roughly into the brick wall. She cushioned Evereste as she crumbled to the ground. For a split second, her mind went black from the force of the impact.

I cannot return yet, Krumpus said to Meu, as this violence occurred. My body is still weak, and my spirit is not yet prepared. Will you go and do what you can do to help her? He asked.

Resolved to save her friend, Meu pulled in her wings and dove. Wind rushed over her form as she raced for the ground. Meu called back to her distant friend. In the dark, Wenifas regained consciousness. She sat up and screamed as the naga tugged at her crying babe.

Meu knew it was too late! Somewhere below the city, her friend was lost!

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 3.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Scurra brought up the van as she followed Elpis and the foreign priestess through the shifting dark of Beletrain. One moment, everything was fine—then a curious scrape caught her ear and instinct took over. She pulled up and leaned away from the sound just as the head of a mallet swung past her and rebounded off the ancient brick of the wall.

“What…?” Wenifas began as she turned back to the militia woman.

Scurra pulled her knife and turned on the strange fish/snake/man amalgamation that attacked her in the low light. She struck below its guard, and cut across its form, but did not penetrate the beast’s armor.

Again, the heavy mallet crashed at Scurra. She flung herself back to avoid the strike, but was forced too far. She lost her footing on the uneven floor, and threw her torch, so she might keep her blade instead, as she rolled back and away from the naga’s weapon.

The beast did not pursue her. Instead, it turned on the others. Elpis gave a yell and interceded between the beast and Wenifas. With his one good arm, he dropped his torch so he might raise his axe. The beast stood tall on its thick tail and smashed at the man with its mallet. Elpis caught the blow—but the strike carried such force, and with only one good arm, Elpis could not block it properly. The shaft of his own weapon smashed back and struck his face. Dazed, Elpis crumbled.

The naga turned on Wenifas. She screamed and clutched her babies as she tried to dodge aside. The naga lowered his mallet, and with its off-hand pushed her bodily into the brick wall. As she fell, her only thought was to cushion Evereste.

Claiten screamed, dodged from the naga, and swung his torch at it. Though his strike was true, it did little, if any, damage. The naga brushed the torch aside and the last of the light was dashed upon the ground. A suffocating darkness overcame them all.

Wenifas blinked away stars of pain as she cried out. She felt the naga pull at Evereste. Torment and rage shrieked through the priestess as she felt Evereste slipping from her hands. Although she knew the wyrm could do nothing, Wenifas cried out to Meu, do something!

Suddenly, a cold and calculating presence infused the priestess, and she felt the reassuring mind of Krumpus ring through her head. With his guidance, she reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled a small object from an inside pocket. With a scream, she shoved the round object in the beast’s face—though Krumpus urged her to let it go. She sensed the added pressure would do the beast more harm. She had no idea what the object was, or that it might possibly hurt her too. Indeed, she did not care. She only feared it would not do enough. It would not drive the naga away.

Heat and light exploded from her hand. A searing fire ripped at her fingers and palm as Wenifas smashed the gunpowder flash bomb into the beast’s face. Wenifas screamed and the beast roared in agony. The naga let Evereste go and cradled its own face instead.

Wenifas thumped her hand against the shaman's thick cloak and managed to put out the fire. Once again, the room was consumed by darkness. Wenifas could hear the beast as it scurried away and slipped into the aqueduct at the far side of the room—and then she could hear nothing but her own ragged breath, and the fuss of her babe. She rocked the child as she shushed and cooed and tried to reassure her that everything was once again all right. “Now now, darling...” Wenifas said with tears in her eyes.

"Sweet Jeiju," Scurra muttered in the dark. "Is everyone okay?"

Elpis gave a croak as he slowly propped himself against the wall.

"At least you drove it off," Scurra noted. She struck her knife against a flint. "How did you do that anyway?"

"The shaman," Wenifas began, though she didn’t know how to explain.

Scurra snorted. “Don’t tell me he’s here in the dark too…”

“No,” Wenifas shrugged. “In his cloak—I thought it was a stone.”

Scurra snorted. “Leave it to my brother to stash firebombs in his pocket,” she noted as she lit her torch. “So much for never seeing nagas. Damn thing moved quick!” She raised the torch and assessed the scene. “Holy Tronde, Elpis! Now your face is bleeding!”

More bloody than before, Elpis snorted and tried to wave her off. With a muttered curse, Scurra helped him to his feet. She gave him his torch and lit it with her own.

"There," Scurra smiled and gave the last torch to Wenifas.

Wenifas dropped it. “I cannot hold it,” she said and held out her burned hand for Scurra’s inspection, though the tears in her eyes were not for her burnt hand, but for the other thing she no longer held. She cursed and kicked the dropped torch, and sent it rolling into the dark.

Scurra gave a nod. "Well then, let's get out of here," she said, as she helped Elpis from the room.

As the others left, Wenifas turned toward the dark of the room one last time as she cradled Evereste. She stared off in the direction she last heard the naga. Although she knew she’d get no answer, she called into the shadows. “Claiten?! You out there, baby?!”

Tears rolled down her face as she stared into the pitch dark of Beletrain. Behind her, she heard Scurra cursing under her breath.

“Claiten...” Wenifas croaked—but her only answer was silence.

Scurra wrapped an arm around the priestess. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but we gotta go.”

Barely able to see, Weinfas wiped her face, followed after the Trohls, and cradled Evereste all the more tightly.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 3.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Meu pulled up hard as Wenifas and her companions were attacked. Her wings fanned and her dramatic descent halted. Fear and impotent rage surged through the wyrm as she screamed at Krumpus and his heavenly council. Do something! She begged them. Do anything!

A searing thought burned from the shaman, through Meu, and caught in the mind of the woozy priestess. Weak and uncertain, Wenifas woke to find scaled hands pulled at Evereste—and then the shaman was in her mind. Krumpus showed the priestess a thing among the folds of his cloak: a small object made of paper, flint, and black powder. Despite her panic, Wenifas clutched at the weapon. Not knowing what it was, she thrust it at her attacker. Light and heat exploded from the object. The beast roared and let go of the screaming babe.

Wenifas smothered the fire that burned her hand with the thick folds of the shaman’s cloak. As she dashed away the flames, Meu’s mental vision blurred. She is safe—for now, Krumpus told the wyrm— then he did something no one had ever done before. His thoughts became overwhelming, and then simply disappeared as he managed to sever Meu’s connection. Unfortunately, whatever he did also severed the wyrm’s connection to Wenifas.

As Meu wheeled in slow circles far above the city, the last words of Krumpus echoed through her head. Resolved to find her friends, Meu tucked her wings and dove toward the earth.

Meu spotted clothes hanging on a line and swooped into the yard. She shifted into human form, grabbed a thin sundress, and let herself out by the gate. Still barefoot, she made for a nearby market. She knew that Wenifas and her companions were somewhere under the city, among the tunnels of ancient Beletrain, and meant to find the nearest entrance. How difficult could it be? She thought, brimming with courage and confidence.

Meu stepped into an eatery and sidled up to the bar. It was a fine place with fancy decor and a gallant air.

The barkeep stared at her for a full second, seemingly astounded, before he thought to even approach. His mouth formed into a smile as he stepped close. "How can I be of assistance, miss?" He asked, a chipper and amiable fellow indeed.

Meu did not speak. She found human language difficult to mimic and could never make the sounds to her own satisfaction. She thought to lick her lips and use her venom—but realized she had another way to communicate—one recently taught to her by the councils of heaven! She leaned toward the bartender and stared into his eyes.

After a long second, the barkeep leaned back and shook his head with a tsk. "Beletrain ain’t no place for a lady! Let me get you a tonic and dram of my finest gin! Then, perhaps one of these fine men will regale you with the misfortunes of ol' Beletrain: that legendary bitch of a hole!"

With a frown, Meu shook her head. She gave a pleading nod.

“So be it,” the barkeep shrugged. He leaned close and whispered low. "Two blocks down and one block over, there’s a tanner. For the right price, he'll let you down into that snake pit—but I tell you, miss, you don't want to go down into ol' Beletrain. It's a nasty nest of slow and painful death,” he shook his head. “Or maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll just lose a limb...”

Meu smiled. She pulled the barkeep close and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You pay with the finest coin," the barkeep blushed. "Before you go, take this refresher." He lifted a bottle from under the counter and set it before Meu. "Please, take it so that I might beg more payment; another kiss to the lighten the other cheek?" he said with a wink.

Meu took his face and obliged the barkeep.

“You come back ‘round and give us a visit, now,” the barkeep winked. “I’d love to hear of your adventure.”

With her hands still on his face, Meu kissed him a third time, now between the eyes. Then, as quick as she entered, she ran out of the bar.

Still barefoot, Meu ran for several more blocks until she found the tanner's door. She banged against it impatiently.

"Keep yer pants on!" a gruff and irritable voice roared from the other side of the barrier. Meu stopped banging. Seconds later, the door ripped open. A disheveled face glared at Meu. “Where’s the fire?!" snapped the disheveled tanner.

Meu gave him a beguiling smile. She stared at the tanner the way she stared at the barkeep, that he might read her intent.

"Beletrain?! In a sundress?!” The tanner snorted. “You even got a knife?!” he roared. “You won’t last an hour!"

Still, she stared at him.

The tanner huffed and shook his head. "It's your funeral—but I don't unlock the cage for anything less than a lune!"

Meu frowned. She had no coin. Of the three purses she stole from Fedring; Wenifas had one, Claiten had another, and Krumpus had the last.

Not that it mattered. There was more than one way to purchase a thing. Her hand touched the collar of her dress and she pulled gently to expose more skin. She put a hand on her slight breast and gave the tanner a suggestive look.

The tanner snorted as he stared at the smooth exposed skin of her chest. His mouth twisted into a wicked grin and he pulled the door wide open. "Well, missy, I ain't fucked a crazy since the last one ran off, but I do like the looks of you!" He said as he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the shop.

The tanner whipped Meu into the room and slapped her ass as she wheeled past him. She braced herself for impact and bounced off a table with an indescribable accumulation of junk and dross piled high on its rough and dirty surface. As she slowed to a halt and regained her balance, Meu glanced about the dingy quarters. Thin paths cut between massive jumbles of a cluttered and messy life.

The gruff tanner swiped at the door and it banged shut with a violent shudder. Various objects and mess clattered to the floor. The greasy man turned on Meu expectantly, as he purposely blocked the door. She'd made the offer and he meant to collect! Meu hesitated. The tanner rushed forward, grabbed at the front of her dress, and almost yanked her off her feet. "No need for clothes!" He roared with the smell of stale cheese heavy on his breath.

Instead of resisting, Meu jumped at the tanner with a lusty look in her eye. She wanted in close, and quickly, before he had time to do any real damage. She wrapped her arms and legs about the tanner. She buried her face in his neck and planted her teeth. A heavy dose of her venom surged into the ocean of the tanner’s veins before he could do anything about it. It’d only take a few seconds until she had complete control.

With a yell, the tanner threw her off. Meu landed heavily on a table and tumbled to the floor amid a clatter of mess. The tanner charged her as she stood. He wrapped his meaty fist about her neck.

No, Meu said in the man's head. Slowly, his fingers relaxed. The tanner's eyes went wide as he realized he was quickly losing control of his own body; as Meu danced about his thoughts and forced him to her will. The tanner backed away from her as he breathed in ragged huffs. I take back my invitation. Meu informed. I apologize for the ruse, but you must let me into Beletrain nonetheless.

The tanner turned. He led her into a dingy basement, as the rest of his dwelling proved to be as cluttered and messy as the workshop. There were several barriers that had to be removed and unlocked in order to get into Beletrain. There were massive chains and locks, even multiple doors to open—and when the tanner was finished, there was simply a dark corridor with nothing beyond it, just a sucking void of pitch black and stale air.

"I won't let you back up," the tanner glared.

You'll do whatever I ask, Meu replied as she ran a hand down his gruff cheek. She gave him a slap and the man flinched from her. I admit I never meant to sleep with you, Meu began, and normally I would return the insult and injury you meant to me...

In his mind, the tanner saw the punishment Meu thought appropriate. He saw himself run headlong into the brick wall behind him. Such a blow would surely knock him unconscious—if it did not kill him outright.

However, Meu continued. I am blessed today, and I will not sully the grace I am given. Go. She ordered him. Go upstairs. Use your viciousness and anger to scrub your hovel clean. You might not have much, but it is yours. She lectured. To care for your stuff is to care for yourself!

"What is it to you?" The gruff tanner snorted. Despite his belligerence, Meu could sense his pain, fear, and abandonment.

It is little indeed, Meu smiled. But you have given me access to Beletrain, and I would yet pay you—if only after a fashion. She said as she stepped backward into the darkness, with nothing but the bottle given to her by the barkeep, and a sundress to cover her skin; both of which she would not keep.

The tanner stared after her her—and then he was no longer before the entrance to Beletrain at all. He was far away, on a small beach, naked and wet, as he fought the grip of the ocean. With ragged breaths, he swam for shore, then stepped from the surf with a sponge he'd retrieved from the chill waters.

His chest heaved as he regained his breath. On the beach, the tanner took the time to study his surroundings. The sun drifted at the edge of the horizon, far over the ocean, and colored the sky orange. A massive tower sat atop a cliff, overlooking the ocean. There was a trail that led from the beach, up the side of the hill, and to the tower atop the cliff. This is mine, the tanner thought as he stared at the tower and followed the path from the beach. He could not believe the beauty of the landscape and the peace of the birds as they wheeled and called and played above the surf.

The tanner approached the tower and saw Meu standing at its top, younger and more beguiling than ever before. She wore the same slight dress as she smiled down at the man. With a smile, the tanner went up the trail. He approached the massive door to the tower and pushed it open. Meu stepped down a set of stairs and smiled at the man’s nakedness, which caused the tanner to blush. She took the tanner's free hand and pulled him into the tower, then gently shut the door behind him.

In a corner of the room was a small pool filled with steaming water. Meu approached the large tub and shrugged out of her dress. She turned and beckoned for the tanner to join her. Still naked, he stepped over the rumpled cloth of her sundress and into the bath. With sponge in hand, the tanner washed Meu’s arms and legs, her back and shoulders.

There was a persistent grime over most of Meu’s skin that required soap and fair bit of massaging. As he washed her, a constellation of freckles appeared on her back, shoulders, arms, and up her legs.

"I shall handle the rest," Meu smiled and took the sponge from him. "Will you see to my hair?" she pointed to a brush on a small table. Her voice was as rich and sweet as any he’d ever heard, and he realized he could not possibly deny her.

The tanner stepped out of the pool and retrieved her brush, then sat behind her on the steps of the pool and brushed out her long strawberry hair. As he brushed, she sang a song of heartache and longing.

The song faded to an end. The tanner barely breathed as he listened to the sweet lilt of her voice echo among the stones. After several silent breaths, Meu turned her loving eyes on the man.

"A towel, my darling."

The tanner turned to a fine cupboard filled with clean linens— indeed, everything about the tower was neat and orderly, and begged to be appreciated. Slowly, Meu stepped from the pool and took her towel. He smiled at her as his longing continued to build. He knew the only way to get what he wanted was to remain patient. He knew he had to let her give in to him.

With a playful smile, the tanner wrapped his arms about her legs and lifted Meu off the ground. As he picked her up, Meu laughed and ran her fingers through his hair. His face was just above her navel as he carried her up the stairs and to the top of the tower. He reveled in her scent as he carried her; a faint citrus zest—a warm, fertile, earthy smell.

On top of the tower was a large canopied bed with heavy weatherproof drapes, made from skins by the tanner’s own hands, tied back to reveal soft covers. A warm wind blew out to sea as the sound of crashing waves drifted up the cliff. The tanner set Meu on the bed. He ran his eyes over her alabaster skin, broken by a fine smattering of freckles: tan stars against an ivory sky. The sun settled over the horizon and the world turned a warm red. The application of a fine scented lotion turned to touching and kissing. Emerald green eyes shined with mirth, thin lips curved in a playful smile, and Meu pulled the tanner close. The tanner could not imagine what good he had done to deserve such a woman—and yet she begged for him! She wrapped her arms around his neck and for a second he feared she might bite him again. Instead she took him in and sang a simplistic song of heavy breathing and pleasureful moaning, to blend with the tumultuous sounds of the ocean, and the shrill cries of the sea birds.

As they finished, as Meu wrapped her arms around the tanner and cradled her face against his chest, she whispered to him in the growing dark. "You can have these things," she said. "But you must remember your passion. Do you not lust for such a life?"

The tanner settled next to this slip of a woman as tears of joy and ecstasy clouded his vision. Tongue twisted, he could not reply.

"There, there," she whispered as she ran her hands over his gruff skin. "You deserve such love! We all deserve such love! But you will not find it the way that you are. You must make yourself the way you used to be. Remember who you were when you cared, before hate and lies took hold and began to terrorize you? Before selfishness and small comforts consumed you?" she lectured.

Meu filled the tanner’s head with memories of years gone by. He was a young man with ambition; a thousand dreams caught in his eyes. His deepest regret was that he could not chase them all.

"These dreams are meant for you," Meu whispered. "What will you pursue? The riches of the world beg to be claimed, and our reward promises to be more than we need. Certainly, it is more than we deserve!" she smiled. "But we must be worthy! Be worthy once more, my fine man!" she said as she kissed him one last time. Meu and the tower receded into shadow, and the world was dark before the tanner once more. “Remember yourself,” she urged as she disappeared.

The vision was gone. The tower and the woman faded into memory as the gaping black nothing of ancient Beletrain stared back at the tanner.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost see her, smell her, and feel her—but he could no longer hear her. He leaned into the darkness of the tunnel. His heart longed to see her come out of the shadow and wrap her arms about his neck once more. He promised to be gentle, to care for her as only a real man could. But she did not return. He thought to follow after her, but he knew she would not be found.

Still, the tanner stared into the pitch black of Beletrain as the conditions of his life crashed in upon his consciousness once more. He stared down at the dirt on his hands and the mess of his clothes. He reeked. His filthiness was suddenly obvious and overwhelming. Seed soaked his pants. A deep and profound longing filled his heart to bursting.

Slowly, reluctantly, the tanner shut the door to ancient Beletrain. He replaced the chains and the heavy locks, and when he was done, he sat on his haunches and put his face in his hands. Then he wept, not because of his squalid conditions, but because he had abandoned his dreams for so very long, and sold himself so very cheap.

Author’s Notes: This is quite possibly my favorite chapter so far. The chapter begins with the same frantic pace that ended chapter 2, then shifts, and becomes calm and introspective. Nearly perfect IMO. Might move the first Meriona and Gliedian to the beginning. It’s short, so it won’t interrupt the flow of the Wenifas/Meu storyline, plus it ramps up the stakes a good deal. —2020/01/18