His Redemption (TheCorsair and Xana)

Her questions would have to wait, based on the way the Carnelian Tower began to shudder underfoot. And that was a good thing, really - not the shifting tower, obviously, but the answers. Because he wasn't sure he had any to offer. Instead he lept as she did, arms extended and gauntleted fingers gripping the edge of the basalt wall as the crimson blocks of the tower caromed off the walls of the keep and down into the courtyard far below.

If it wasn't for the unholy vitality granted by his demonic soul, he would never have been able to make the leap. Not with the armor her wore. As it was, he crashed into the curtain wall like a cannonball and clung for dear life. He scrabbled at the wall, trying to find a purchase with his booted feet, something - anything that would allow him to shift his grip and drag himself to the top. And then, just as he was almost resigned to plunging to his death or capture in the courtyard below, Aurianna's slim hand wrapped around his wrist. She was deceptively slim, but the vitality of her Goddess burned in her. With a bulging of steel muscles beneath her soft, abused flesh, she dragged him up onto the wall before collapsing to the ground.

Matthias lay beside her for a moment, gasping for breath. Then he grimaced as the demon in his soul flexed its talons, demanding sustenance. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of the stench of sex and gore on the woman next to him, and of the pulsing of her veins beneath her soft skin. With a snarl, he forced himself to his feet. He still had reserves, after all. "We're not safe," he said, pacing the twenty yards to the far edge and peering down over the wall. A moat of blood boiled some sixty feet below them, spanning ten yards before it lapped at the broken, dead earth beyond. "Not yet. We have to get out of here. The Ravenous will only distract them so long."

He pointed at the hills beyond. "The Vale of Scathan," he said, indicating a notch illuminated by the setting sun. "We need to make for there. It's the shortest route to the Seraphin Wall, and your only hope of escape." He chuckled a little, voice hollow and empty. "We won't lose the trackers, so we may as well go the fastest way."

Now he was offering her his hand. "I can make the jump. With a running jump, I can make it. Come on."

Now that she was taking a moment’s rest, all the pain and abuse her body had suffered was flooding back to her. She wanted to burst into tears, to smash things, to rend her nails against the earth until they bleed. She wanted to die and she wanted to surrender.

Aurianna grimaced as he told her they weren’t safe. She knew, she just wasn’t sure she cared enough to change it. She wasn’t sure she would ever be safe again, that she would ever feel as though she owned her own body. Did she even own it now, as she followed Matthias? Was this grandstanding to lay his claim to her? Would he rape her as soon as they were out of Baath’s reach? Taking his turn as Baath had promised her? She hugged her own knees, trying hard to push out the fears, the pain, to motivate herself to action. After a moment, she stood, as joined him at the edge.

She just listened as he explained the plan, nodding at the logic of it. It all made sense, but still it worried her. She would be the first paladin captured by demons to escape with her life. Enough dead paladins had been deposited at the doorstep of the seraphim wall for her to know she experience was their captive was common. Male or female, didn’t matter, their bodied were violated and defiled in horrific and unspeakable ways. Females of course had the added terror of possibly being impregnated by the demons, but otherwise the fiend did not discriminate in their torment.

But never before had someone escape alive. How would she be treated if she returned? Especially if she returned with Matthias’ aid? Would anyone trust that she was rescued? By the very man who had captured her and brought her before the demon lord? Would anyone believe her, that she was not a fallen paladin herself, trying some ploy to gain access to the temple? He was right of course, that it was the only place she could possibly be safe, but would she even be allowed in?


In this moment, it didn’t matter. They needed distance, and they needed a plan. She took one more look over the edge and shook her head, “It’s too far down. I won’t make it.” Still, she took his armored hand, looking up at his with resignation.

Matthias made a tutting sound at her words. "Have you forgotten my lessons so quickly, Ari?" He shook his head. "A Paladin's power isn't in muscle and skill, although those things matter. A Paladin's power is in faith, and in the strength of the Gods." He tore up a chunk of stone and flung it, easily hitting the far side of the moat. "Aphodisia could make that jump easily."

Turning, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "But doubt is easy, isn't it? When all hope seems lost, and you feel abandoned." A grim chuckle. "But... you're not me. You were always stronger, always could have been greater, than I was. Even before I betrayed and abandoned Her."

Without warning he jerked her arm and pulled her close, using the motion to sling her over one shoulder. "But, for now, I'll handle it. I sold my soul, but I gained some measure of power in the meantime. Enough, I think, for this." He backed up, heels brushing against the far edge of the wall. Below them, the mumer of demon voices roared and crashed like the tide. And then he started running, building speed as his armor clashed and clanged and Aurianna bounced on his shoulder like a sack of grain. Before it seemed possible, he grunted and lept, hurling himself high into the air.

There was a heart-stopping moment of weightlessness as he reached the top of his jump, the world spreading out beneath them and the moat of boiling blood yawning wide to receive them. And then he struck the ground with the force of a cannonball, armor crashing as he drove himself knee deep into the broken stone and earth of the far side. A grunt, and then another grunt followed as he tore his feet loose from the craters that imprisoned them. "Are you all right?" he asked, voice echoing from within his featureless helmet.

He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he took off running. Soon, the landscape around them was blurring with the unnatural speed of his movements as sprinted faster than any mortal horse. Occasionally he would lurch and they'd be airborne again, when he decided that leaping an obstacle would be faster than going around it. But, after nearly half an hour, he skidded to a halt beside a spring that fed a shallow pool. "We'll stop here," he declared, slinging her off his shoulder.

He stared at her for a moment, then reached out and undid the rough knot that supported her makeshift gown. His eyes lingered on the splendid body revealed by the ruined velvet as it slid to the ground. Even bruised and torn and covered with drying blood and semen, she was a sight to catch his breath and harden his cock. Or was it because of the blood and the injuries? His tastes had changed, become darker and fouler, since his fall.

"You'll need to bathe," he declared. "The water's pure, here."

Aurianna scoffed as he dared to preach to her about doubt and abandonment. “You who turned your back on the gods has no right to lecture me about faith. What all this just some test of my faith? You should be glad to know you’ve broken it.” She snarled before he pulled her into his arms. She squirmed for just a moment as he lifted her up, accepting that he wasn’t going to let her go before he started his running jump. Despite whatever revulsion she felt towards him, she clung to him as her leapt into the air, some small part of her wanting to believe in him.

She grunted aloud as she landed diaphragm first into his shoulder. A few deep breaths later convinced her that while her ribs may have been badly bruised, she did not break one and puncture a lung. She tried to Get off of him as she regained her breath, but he held her tight, reminding her of his superior strength.

“Let go of me!” she growled when he asked if she was okay. She fought him harder now, even as he moved, but she could only feel his armored digging into her flesh as he held her. After a awhile she stopped resisting again, unwilling to admit she couldn’t travel this distance in her current shape, not to mention this speed at all.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” She screamed at him as he undid the her makeshift robe. She smacked his hand away, tensing as her bare skin struck the sturdy gauntlets he wore. It didn’t stop him from undressing her, leaving her vulnerable before him once more, triggering images of being stripped before Baath’s court. Was he lingering over her nudity, or was she imagining it? It was impossible to tell with his helm on, yet in her own mind she was convinced this was a tactic to establish dominance over her, that he was going to rape her now. Just like the others.

She shook visibly, refusing to go through that humiliation once more. She let out a primal scream as she tackled him down, digging her shoulder into his midsection, driving with her full strength to knock him to the ground. She must have caught him unawares, as him heavy body slammed into the ground with a thunderous clamor noise. His head was rocked against a protruding rock, hitting it unevenly and hard. He was still on the ground, his neck bent in an awkward angle. With his plate armor on it was impossible to tell if her was breathing, or if his heart was pumping.

Aurianna got up shaky, simultaneously shocked and relieved that she may have killed him. She couldn't bring herself to check, just wondered downstream to clean herself off.

He probably should have expected rage, given what she'd experienced. But the sheer physicality of her response startled him. It also proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her faith was unshaken. Her confidence was gone, perhaps, but her faith? No faithless Paladin could have slammed him into the ground like that. Mere human strength was no match for his demon. And so he laid there, stunned, helmet wedged uncomfortably in an awkward angle. It bit painfully into jaw and neck, but the pain reminded him that he was lucky (really?) to be alive.

And once he caught his breath, he'd manage to get himself off the ground.

Aurianna staggered to her feet, and made her shaky way towards the stream. As she did, Matthiau managed to shift and stir, forcing himself upright. Bringing one gauntleted hand to his helmet he tore it away, dismissing it as too awkward to fix at the moment. It clattered on the rocks as he tossed it aside, bouncing and rolling across the stony ground. "Never," he gritted out, "turn your back on an opponent." He forced himself to his feet. "Not until you know he's dead."

The face beneath the helmet was familiar, but the differences were shocking. Before, he'd been red of cheek, with laughing blue eyes and shaggy auburn hair and beard. His profile had been strong beneath the beard, his nose aquiline and his chin square and strong. Now... the profile was the same. But the ruddy skin was pale now, white as death, and his eyes glinted with red flame, and there was a hint of fangs in his mouth as he spoke. The auburn hair had turned jet black.

He hurled himself forward, catching Aurianna about the waist and carrying them both into the water with a loud splash. Straddling her, pinning her legs beneath his as the waves of the impact lashed about them, he grabbed her by the throat with a mailed fist and dunked her beneath the water. "I need you clean," he snapped. He tried to ignore the stirrings of lust in his loins, even as he knew it was reflected in his crimson eyes.

She flinched as she heard the sound of his armor shifting. She knew better, even worse, she knew that she knew better. She should have at least pulled his weapon off of him. She could hear his speaking, but the pulsing blood thundered in her ears, making her unable to comprehend his words. She looked behind herself, seeing Matthias toss away the ruined helm. He had changed quite a bit form the man she remembered, but she didn’t have time to consider that at the moment.

She took off in a sprint before he could have gotten to his feet. Unfortunately, for her, the events of the day had taken quite the toll on her, and Matthias easily caught her. She flailed and kicked with all her might as she tried desperately to escape his inhuman strength. Catching him off guard was not going to happen again. She howled as she was dragged into the water, held down by the weight of his full plate. With thick metal fingers wrapped around her neck, she had a hard time taking a deep breath before being plunged into the cool water. A weak scream leaked from her mouth as she went under, no sound to could be heard, but two big bubbles traveled up to the surface. She was gasping and coughing up water when he brought her back up.

All around her, the water turned pink from the blood run off. Her body was still convulsing, trying desperately to catch her breath, still struggling to pry herself from his crushing grasp. She caught his red eyes leering at her, filled with the familiar look of lust and hatred she had seen in the eyes of her rapists.

“Is this what you want? Clean me off so you can take your turn free, of the shame you put me through?” She accused, as her free hand moved towards his sword. If she could keep him angry and distracted she could grab his blade and gain the upper hand. “Are you upset that you had to share me with others?” she snarled, finally pulling the blade free from his sheathe. The angle was inelegant, but she hacked at his side and arm until he let go, putting all her strength into an overhead slash. In the water like this she had an advantage, nothing weighing her down, unlike this full armor which would be quite the liability if he went under.

She pressed the attack, letting the hell-fire blade melt away his defenses. She had a mind to destroy his armor as he had destroyed her own. There might not have been an audience to his exposure, but it would at least level the playing ground. So she continued to slice and rip away his armor, until he was as vulnerable as she was now, unconcerned with the damage she may have been doing to him.

Shit. How had she gotten her hands on the hellblade? How could he have let her get her hands on the hellblade.

Matthiau gave ground before her onslaught, nursing his arm and ignoring the pain as molten soulstuff - the ruach that had been forged into his armor - burned into his wound and along the length of his arm. Another blow, and another, and another, and suddenly he was having to tear away a ruined, half-molten breastplate that sizzled and steamed as it struck the pool. "If this was about taking my turn," he snarled back, ducking away from a backhand that would have severed his head from his shoulders, "I'd have waited my turn!"

The blade slashed past him again, igniting the padded jerkin covering his chest. He tore it away as well. "I was... third after Laemohn!" He stumbled backwards, then lept backwards and landed at the edge of the pool. "And I could have been next, had I wanted to push the matter!"

Bare to the waist now, it was clear that the corpse-white pallor of his face was typical of his skin. He resembled nothing so much as a chiseled (and scorched) marble statue, chest hairless and heavily muscled. "This is about keeping the Hounds from following us!"

She wasn't listening, clearly. Not from the way she followed in, bringing the blade low and forcing him to spin to keep her from shearing through his leg. His bare fist lashed out, splitting her lip with the force of his backhand and staggering her backwards. A savage kick to the stomach doubled her over, and he kicked the hellblade away as he slammed her to the rocky ground beneath them. The feel of her wet flesh under his fingers and the heat of her body between his thighs as he pinned her once more reminded him of just how much he'd been looking forward to his turn. And the feel of her pulse, the veins in her throat throbbing against his hand?

That reminded him of hunger. Reminded him that he would have to feed his demon, to heal the burns and the wounds she'd inflicted.

He leaned close, letting her feel his breath on her face and the smooth planes of his body against hers. "Or were you hoping that's why I brought you here?" he sneered, his free hand roughly squeezing a bare breast. "You certainly enjoyed the Dark Lord. Were you hoping for more of the same from me?" And then his lips were on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth.

His explanation while she came after him only served to further fuel her anger. Her strikes came in harder and faster, but wilder, and less precise. She didn’t want to kill him, just leave him as bleeding and battered just as she was.

And yet, his words preventing the hounds from tracking them rang true to her. She hesitated for a moment, considering this possibility. He took advantage of this, of course, smacking her hard with the back of his hand. Even without gauntlets, the force was enough to rock her head to the side, leaving her dizzy and disoriented for a moment. His flurry of attacks left her disarmed, on the ground once more with him atop her.

Without his armor, he wasn’t so heavy pressing down on her. Now, the smoothness of his chiseled form, and the bulge pressing against her thigh, was recalling Baath Me’el, and her first violation at the hands of the demon. He reminded her too, with his words and calloused hand groping at her still tender breast. Once more her body was reacting, as if she were expecting it once more, and Matthias’ words taunted her further. She couldn’t deny it before he took a rough kiss from her, his tongue tasting the blood that was still filling her mouth from the hit. She resisted for only a moment before giving into the kiss, letting her tongue intermingle with his.

Was he right? Did she want to fuck him? Perhaps, he certainly would have been preferable to some of her rapists. And it would be nice to have a positive sexual experience to push back the horror she had just been through, but today was not the day. What she really wanted in this moment was a bit of comfort, but she doubted Matthias would give her that, if she asked. So instead, she took the kiss, letting this act of affection substitute for the tenderness she craved.

Still, once he pulled away from her mouth, she was calmer, shaking slightly from the emotions just bubbling under the surface. “Please don’t,” she whimpered, looking up into his demonic eyes. “I’ll get cleaned off, I won’t fight it.”

The taste of her blood on her lips sent fire coiling through him. He could feel his demon stir, demanding sustenance for the life and power it granted. It wanted that blood, her hot life on his lips and running down his throat. Hunger, need, coursed through him, leaving him shaking with mingled greed and lust. He pushed himself up on one arm, staring down at her greedily with his burning red eyes. "You won't fight it," he breathed, shuddering with pleasure as he trailed his tongue over the split on her lip. "I can feel that..."

It would be so easy. She was shaken, weak from her ordeal. Just a fist in her hair, pulling back to arch the smooth column of her neck. His fangs would pierce the tenderly, let her blood fill his mouth as she writhed under the exquisitely painful pleasure. He would take her as he did, fill her with his meat and his seed as she filled him with her life and her blood. The taste of it... the sensations of her life life shuddering out in her final orgasm...

He eased the grip of his hand on her throat, sliding it up to cup her cheek. "I would have spared you," he whispered, cool fingers stroking her hair, "if I had possessed the strength." He kissed her again, hungrily. "But I was never as strong as you." His lips trailed down her jaw and along the pulsing vein in her throat, and he sighed against flesh left damp by his lips. "Only you... could have given me the strength..."

His world was contracted, now. It consisted only of the soft form of the woman beneath him, of the heat of her body and the taste of her sweat and blood. Only of the throbbing of her heart and the scent of her mingled fear and arousal. "The strength..." he murmured, letting his fangs scrape over the thin skin of her throat, "to betray..."

Slow. He would go slow. She would enjoy his caresses, she would beg for him. He would take just enough blood to quell his demon. "To betray... a second... master..." The sensation of his fangs piercing her skin was agony and ecstasy to him, and the salt-iron taste of her blood in his mouth sent a ripple of pleasure through him that was answered and echoed by the throbbing of his iron-hard cock. More blood flowed into his mouth, and he gave voice to a stunned sound of pleasure as he felt his seed spurt from him. His eyes closed and her blood stained his mouth and dripped from his chin as he threw his head back, groaning his release to the sky and soaking his breeches with his semen as the uncontrollable orgasm lashed through him.

Finally, shaken and spent, he nearly collapsed onto her. His tongue traced the wound on her throat, sealing the flesh and leaving nothing but a bruise behind. "That..." he gasped, chest heaving, "you..."

A howl split the silence and his head jerked, looking wildly in the direction of the sound. "The Hounds!" he cried, pushing himself up and looking wildly around. "My sword! Your spear! We must fight!"

She stared into his eyes as he spoke, he speech was fragmented, almost delirious. He was impossible to predict now, was he threatening her, was he agreeing? She winced as his tongue moved along the cut on her lip, stilling throbbing from the force of his blow, yet, this was gentle somehow? He wasn’t trying to hurt her now, so far as she could tell. It was almost comforting, the way he ran his fingers through her hair, and she returned his kiss with need as well, though perhaps a different kind from him. Still, she was quiet as he spoke, letting him finish his thoughts, trying to figure out where he was going with this. What was he going to spare her? What was he going to take from her?

She gasped as his fangs pierced her neck, finding the sensation incredibly intense. There was a brief spike of pain as her skin resisted, building to a burst of pleasure as they sunk into her flesh. As he drank from her, wave after wave of elation moved through her body, leaving her whimpering under the weight of her own rapture.

She could feel his manhood, pulsing through his breeches. His hips rocked slightly, as his entire body gave into the pleasure of feeding on her, and had he been nude, he would be penetrating her now. In her current state, that would be painful, but with his clothes acting as a barrier, the tip of his cock brushed against her clit. Again and again his hardness made contact with her sensitive nub, rubbing it with increasing pressure and speed.

Combined with the euphoria of being feed on, his hot mouth kissing and sucking her neck, her body was returning to the familiar state of ecstasy. The once Baath had ensured she would associate with his rape. Once more she was reaching a climax, and this time, she want to embrace that pleasure, instead of let it humiliate her further. She held him tightly against her, digging her nails into his back as the sensations became overwhelming “Matthias!” She called out as her edged closer to her release. She felt his orgasm through his trousers, the hot spurt of seed right against her clit. It threw her over the edge now, as she arched her neck deeper into his mouth, letting her pleasure overcome her.

She was breathing hard as she came down form the heights of passion, shocked she could find such pleasure from the act. Still it complicated things between them. Were they lovers? Uncertain allies? Were they even friends? There was still hatred for him deep in her heart, but it may have cooled some as her desire burned. At the very least, she needed his protection from –
“Hounds?” She sat up now, disturbed from her post orgasmic contentment. The howls were numerous, and it was difficult to pinpoint where they came from.

“My spear?” She repeated at him, bewildered. Had he already forgotten how he broke it before? Her anger at him was rising once more, but he was not her opponent at this time. “Why don’t you have a second weapon?” she demanded angrily, searching desperately for something she could use for a weapon, “Weren’t you the one who always told me to keep a backup on my person?!” She found a suitable stick she could use as a staff, not a great option, but the only one she had now.

Since she didn’t have any armor on, she would going to have to rely on wits and agility to survive this encounter. She climbed up a nearby tree, preparing to strike at anything that ran underneath her.

Shit. Had she lost her captured trident, during that first frantic flight through the waste? He hadn't noticed, and then he'd been too busy with fighting and then fucking to care. Even niw, the feel of her body moving beneath him, her shuddering orgasm as he'd cum against her with her blood running down his chest...

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog as he looked for his sword. "I was busy," he growled. "You remember - there was something of an impromptu escape..?"

THERE! He dove forward, catching up the hilt if his hellfire blade as it boiled the water that half-covered it. And just in time, it seemed. For the first of the Hounds was upon them.

Hounds. The name gave the impression of canines. And like so many things of Hell, this was deceiving. They had been human once, the Hounds. Human, but terribly warped and twisted, locked into masks of iron that left jaws exposed, their other senses stopped so that they could perceive only the living souls of mortals.

There were a dozen of them, naked save for helmet and harness. They snuffled blindly, hunched and crawling. One of them rose to its feet, blindly gazing upwards at Aurianna, its throbbing cock erect. It threw back its head, and uttered a oiercing, ululating scream.

Matthiau killed that one first. "Hurry!" he roared, laying about with his blade. "They are weak - weaker than a demon, anyway! But the Hunt follows in their wake!"

She stayed atop her branch for now, using the length of her stick to smack away her enemies. Eight had surrounded her tree now, clawing frantically at her sanctuary. The pathetic creatures leapt at her, reaching for her, catching the branch with their talon like hands. She smacked at the hands that clung to the bough, hearing a sickening crunches as she shattered the small bones of their fingers. One tried to climb up the trunk, but she held the stick with two hands, and thrust downwards atop it’s head with her divine strength. As it fell to the ground, it knocked another over, both creatures landing in the still boiling water. Horrid screams filling the air as the skin singed off. The once clear and clean spring was turning blood red as it dissolved the former humans.

From the other end one had managed to grab hold of the branch, swinging it’s legs up to scale it. The branch could not support both her and the hound’s weight, and she could it splintering from the trunk. She swiped the limbs of the hound that was causing the weight imbalance, but another hound from the ground had caught her foot, limiting her mobility. She took a wide swing, landing her stick in the middle of its forearm, and sundering the bone in half. Still, the bough broke, dropping Aurianna on top on four hounds that were directly under her. One had its head smashed open on an outcropping boulder.

Still the three underneath her grasped at his nude flesh, one managing to dig it’s nails into her thigh. Their erect cocks, poked her from all angles, and in their animalistic savagery, it was hard to tell if they were trying to kill her capture her or rape her, or do all three at the same time. She screamed out as she tried to break away from their clutches. Every time she freed an arm from one, another was latched on; to the point, it seemed to make any progress towards escape.

One last one charged her, screeching in terrible glee, most likely signaling to its masters that it had captured it prey. She liberated a leg from the Hounds beneath her, getting a good kick at the creature’s joints, driving it down to its knees. She managed to elbow another in the throat giving her a chance to toss off the other two hounds. She sprinted to her stick, using it to put some distance between her and her pursuers. Three remained, hissing and biting at the air in her direction.

The sheer number of the Hounds made the fight difficult. Not so much because they were a threat - although they would have been if they had been able to coordinate - but because they were unpredictable without their handlers. Matthiau lost a great deal of time simply pursuing one and then another in the effort to kill them individually. And they were much more interested in Aurianna than in himself. Instinct, perhaps. She was poorly armed, after all. And the base desires in them would drive them after a source of meat and lust.

By now, Aurianna had been driven from her tree. Another Hound screamed as he drove his Hellblade through its spine and tore it free, and he bounded over the corpse without slowing. She was dealing out death well, particularly given her improvised weapon. If she'd been armed with a real weapon, the three to one odds would have been staggeringly unfair. For the Hounds.

A tree branch was a poor choice for something to kill a hellspawned creation, though. Which is why he chopped the hindmost down with a sickening sizzle of burning fat and a stench of burnt pork. The next in line spun, howling right up until the moment that his darkly burning blade skewered its masked face. It collapsed, binding his blade for a moment as the last Hound lept at him, and so he abandoned it to catch the twisted once-human thing with both hands. It shrieked as he slammed it into the ground, then shrieked once more before his armored boot crushed its skull to pulp.

"Aurianna!" he bellowed, tearing his blade loose and gesturing. "The Vale! Make for the Vale!" He drew a deep breath, gripped his sword, and turned to stare back towards the Fortress. "I'll hold them here, as long as I am able."

Aurianna took a deep breath as Matthias dispatched the last of their foes, with the aid of his far superior weapon. She went back to wear he had discarded her makeshift robe and put it back on, feeling batter with at least something covering her as she formulated a response. He told me the same thing ten years ago, and look how well that had turned out.

“That’s not going to happen. Even if I leave right now, I won’t even get close to the Seraphim Wall. Without your armor you won’t last any time against The Hunt. You will be killed if you are lucky, or captured if not. I will be captured soon after, and delivered back to Baath Me’el. Surely, he will have me raped before his court once more, by creatures even more monstrous than Laemohn. If I am lucky I’ll be raped to death within a week, but more likely I will be forced to bear demonic half breeds until my body breaks. If you insist on abandoning me now, have the decency to run your blade through me now, so that I can have a bit of mercy in my last moments. Hell, if you drain my life, you might stand a chance of escaping with your own.” She railed into him, making sure he truly understands what the consequences of this course of action. Seeing as he did all this for her, to protect her in some strange way, maybe she could use this to convince him to continue helping her.

She approached him now, bringing her body close to his. “Can you run with me again? That is the only way I see us making it to some kind of safety.” She explained, looking deep into his eyes. “Do you need more blood? You can feed off of me some more if it would help…” She held up her wrist to his face, knowing that they were running out time.

"There is no escape for me," Matthiau whispered, voice hollow. "Not at the Seraphin Wall. Not if I dared Mount Fearfire. Not anywhere, in life or death." But her logic was inexorable. Unescapable. Apart, each of them would be easy prey. Together, though...

And then she was close to him, bodies almost touching as she offered - offered! - her blood. He needed her blood, he realized. Craved it, like nothing he'd tasted before. Even as he heard himself framing some wordless attempt at refusal his fingers were tracing the contours of her hand and wrist and forearm. Like the rest of her, her arm was slim and deceptively strong - soft velvet skin over steel.

Gripping and rotating her arm with his left hand, his right arm pulled her her body tight against him. His cock, limp and damp with his seed, twitched back to life and then hardened as his lips traced the veins in her wrist. "I need..." he groaned, "more..."

He gasped as his fangs pierced the skin and muscle at the base of her thumb, moaning his pleasure into her hand as her blood filled his mouth. He drank a small measure of her life, then traced his tongue over the wound to close it. His lips lert a bloody trail as he kissed his way to her wrist, and then his fangs entered her once more and the blood seemed to go straight to his aching cock.

It was an effort to stop. An effort to not drain her completely, one scarlet drop at a time. An effort to not take her there, on the hard ground. But the distant howling of distant Hounds filled the air, and there was no time. And so the only blade sheathed was the hellblade, and his touch was gentle as he lifted her in his arms. Wordlessly, he began to run.

---

It was fifty miles, following the old roads, through the Vale. Matthiau, driven by need and the demon in his soul, ran it in slightly more than two hours. More than once they had been spotted - the fallen warrior had been forced to choose speed or stealth, after all. And he had chosen speed.

Now the great grey bulk of the Seraphin Wall loomed in the middle distance. A hundred feet high and stretching from horizon to horizon, it had been built at a terrible cost in life to do one thing - defend the lands of mortal men from the armies of Hell. And for a century and more it had succeeded.

Matthiau didn't look back as he ran. He couldn't, because he was growing weak and hungry from his efforts and wasn't certain he could rise again if he fell. He wouldn't, because he knew what he would see.

The Horned Lord and His Hunt.

"Will... will they... aid you?" he gasped to the woman in his arms. "The... Hunt... will dare... even.. the shadows... of... the Wall..." He focused his attentions, looking for some sanctuary. "Will... they..?"

She moaned and sighed as he drank the life from her once more. She was beginning to understand how humans could be tempted into serving the demons, even as she began to feel lightheaded form the blood loss. She only hoped it was enough, for she wasn’t sure she could spare him anymore. He relented, and held her in his arms, as she rested her tired head against his chest.

The journey was long and hard, and Aurianna was grateful she was given a chance to rest while Matthias undertook it. It gave some time to recover from her ordeal, and regain some of her strength. She was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief as the great grey walls manifested over the horizon.

As the they close, the sounds of The Hunt drew closer still. She knew the gates would not open if demons raged just outside. Had they traveled all this way for naught? Would this be her grave, surrounded by the corpses of dead allies and enemies? Matthias put her down as he struggled for air and against his diminishing vigor. Now it was her turn to stand in his defense, and she almost turned to him to demand use of his sword. That was until she saw something from the corner of her eye, something that told her that Aphodesia had not given up on her.

A golden spear was sticking out of the ground, pinning down the bones of a long dead Balor. She yanked it free of its last victim, smiling at the beauty of its artisanship. She scavenged around a bit longer until she found a shield to go with it, Standing before Matthias and the wall, ready to face down her enemies. Over the distance, hundreds of hounds howled as they approached her position. Just behind them stood the hulking Horned Lord, Nine feet of pure muscle and nature’s fury.

Aurianna readied herself to charge, until she was distracted by a sound from the Seraphim wall. She turned as she thought she heard the words “FIRE!” called from the top. Overhead, golden arrows flooded the sky, raining down on the hounds as they approached. The holy bolts tore through the defenseless hellspawn, leaving piles of dead littered along the battlefield.

Aurianna timed her charge between waves, vaulting over dead hounds to leap at the master. Her spear found the demon’s gut, piercing all the way through. He struck back with a wide swing, and she was aonly just able to block it with her shield. She ripped her spear out of it, jumping back to prepare her next attack. She used the reach the spear afforded her too keep him at bay, using hit and run tactics to wear him down. Without armor, she was surprised by the level of dexterity and acrobatics of which she was capable. She twisted her body in spinning jump as the horned lord lunged at her, deploying her spear at the end of the maneuver into the fiend’s throat. All around her the hounds were dispatched, wailing their death cries.

“Behold!” She heard bellowing form the top of the Seraphim wall. “As Aphodesia promises, she delivers. Behold the return of the Paladin Aurianna.” She could just make out the slim figure of the young priestess, clad in her golden hooded robes.

“Oracle,” She whispered, smiling to herself. It was her turn to lift Matthias up, wrapping his arm around her shoulder for support. Together they walked through the gates, to the large crowd waiting just within. Murmurs spread through the gathering, disbelief at what they were seeing. A captive paladin, and a traitor returning form the abyss of the demon lord’s keep.

He collapsed to the ground as Aurianna released him, burning blade tumbling from numb fingers. He'd taxed himself far more than he'd let on, pushed himself against himself and his demon, defying his dark Lord and the demands of the pacts he'd made when he'd traded his freedom and his soul for his last - his greatest - apprentice. The effort to simply kneel, staring blankly at the Horned Lord of the Hunt, was more than he could manage.

"Matthiau," the bestial demon rumbled. "Our Lord is... displeased. Your reach has exceeded your station, and worse yet... you failed."

His fangs dug into his own lips, in desperate hope that the taste of his own dead blood might revive him for a moment. The burning blade, smoking in a puddle of lava, swam and danced in his vision. But... at least Aurianna would be saved. The world didn't need him, a traitor to two masters and a failure. But she was...

Golden shafts tore into the front rank of the Hounds, and then she was between him and the Horned Lord. In his fevered vision she was a luminous figure of alabaster and gold, a burning brand against the darkness of her foe. And she was magnificent. Weaving and dodging like moonlight on flowing water she evaded the blows of the demon, and soon it was dead at her feet.

Wearily, he lifted the blade. The world turned grey as he struggled to turn it, to position it to pierce his own breast when he fell. And as blackness took him, the tiny fragment of his soul that remained to him wished it could pray for death.

---

The assembled Paladins cheered as Aurianna rode up the lift, supporting her burden. As she reached the top of the wall, one of them - Lord Paladin Mykel Kallekos, Knight Commander of the Wall - removed his samite cloak and draped it over her shoulders. "Lady Aurianna," he said, his voice dignified. "We are gladdened by your return. When you were captured, we... feared... the worst..?"

His voice trailed away as he realized what she bore in her arms. "Afodisia," he breathed, hand falling to his sword. "Matthiau Oath-Sworn!" There was awe in his expression. "You have captured the traitor Matthiau! However did you...?"

"Through the power and grace of Afodesia," the Oracle answered, her voice warm. She regarded the returned Paladin with eyes filled with concern. "But you have been through much," she said, resting her slim hand on Aurianna's shoulder. "We will not speak of it, not here. After you have rested, when you are ready... I will listen."

Two more Paladins emerged from among the gathered warriors - Jeorom Sanal, a lithe figure with long hair as golden as his armor, and Allisander Tanit, a broad-chested bear of a man with hair and beard the color of coal and armor of silver. Jeorom drew his broad golden blade as Allisander took Matthiau from Aurianna with an expression of disgust and threw him to the ground. "You have been burdened with him long enough," Jeorom said, raising his blade. "Let us return his head to his Master, as a warning."

“No!” She cried out as Jeorom brought up his blade. She stood between him and Matthias, pushing Allisander out of the way with her all of her strength. “You can’t just kill him! He saved me!”

“Aurianna!” The Lord Paladin rebuked her, “We can’t spare him just because he is an Oath-breaker twice over. He was who took you captive in the first place…”
“Jeorom! Don’t do this!” She beseeched him, dropping to her knees now, covering Matthias with her own body. Jeorom looked to Mykel, who nodded to him, and then back the pleading Aurianna, mouthing “I’m sorry” to her. Allisander pulled her off of the traitor, wrapping his arms around her waist to do so.

“She right,” the Oracle spoke up now, inserting herself in between all the parties. All eyes turned towards the priestess now. “He served the demon lord for a long time. Surely, he has quite a bit of valuable information he can share with us. At the very least, his years of service to the church and his recent heroic acts afford him a trial.” She declared, her soft voice commanding a great deal of authority.

Two years ago, she had arrived out of nowhere, claiming that Aphodesia had spoken to her, and shown her the path of victory for the humans. She wasn’t taken very seriously at first, but in time every prophecy she delivered came true, no matter how outlandish or unlikely. Under her leadership, the Church had made significant gains against the demons; everyone had placed their faith in her.

Mykel sighed and nodded. “You are right, your holiness. Take him to the dungeons” He ordered Jeorom and Allisander carried him away by his arms. Jeorom gave Aurianna one last significant look, before leaving her sight. Mykel turned his attention back to Aurianna, stroking her hair that way a father might do to his daughter. “Are you alright, my child? Just two days prior, you promised you would be the one to take his head.”

She held the cloak tight over her body. She remembered that day, for it was the day the Oracle had told her that she would meet Matthias on the battlefield. But so much had changed in that time, how could she possibly get him to understand. Oracle spoke up for her again.

“When she is ready, she will tell us what transpired at the demon keep. For now, I really should tend to her wounds.” Oracle explained, intertwining her arm with Aurianna’s. They made their way to the Oracle’s chambers.

There was cold stone beneath his chest. Cold stone, and a chafing bite of steel. And weakness. And hunger. He lay there in a stupor, unaware of the passage of time. Barely aware of his own consciousness. Finally, blindly, he stirred.

"Awake, are you?" There was hatred in the voice. Deep and black, but human.

With an effort he twisted his head. A golden figure was silhouetted by iron bars. Matthiau could feel the loathing pouring off of that shape. "Uuuh..." he grunted.

"You'll live, for now," the golden figure announced, and the words were not hopeful. "Praise the kindness of the Lady Aurianna for that, traitor." The shape spat, and the gobbet landed on his forehead. "You've a future of interrogation to look forward to. Interrogation and then, when we've learned all we can, death."

"Yuuhh..." he grunted, then forced himself up on his hands and knees. "You... think... I fear... death?"

The bars opened, and the golden figure entered. As if from a distance, Matthiau watched it draw back its mailed foot. Watched the kick swing lazily forward. The pain of the impact was numb and distant, as he sprawled onto his back from the force of the blow. Then a second kick sent him crashing into the wall. The golden figure loomed over him.

"For what your kind did to her," Jeorom snarled, crouching low before him and driving his gauntlet into Matthias' teeth. "You will."

---

The Oracle rubbed sanctified oil into Aurianna's pale, scarred flesh. Her hands - warrior's hands - were strong and callused, but her touch was gentle. The ministrations were more healing ritual than massage, after all. "These marks," she murmured, fingers trailing flame along scabbed wounds, "they tell much. More, perhaps, than you are willing to say."

She murmured words in the language of the Gods as she applied more oil to the Paladin's lacerated flanks, shaking her head sadly as she did. "More than you wished to bear - than anyone would wish to bear. I see much, with the Eyes of the Lady of Love and War. More than I desire, most days, and more than I feel I can bear on some. If I had my wish, I would pluck these Eyes from my face, and see no more."

More flame licked the wounds, cleansing and healing them with the power of Afodisia. "But... we all have our burdens. And I will listen, if you wish to lay them down for a time."

The oracle tended to a clay teapot heating over the fire. She poured some into in to a cup, it’s strong aroma filling the room. She handed the cup to Aurianna “Try to drink it all.”

Aurianna looked at the dark liquid as it swirled in the cup. It was so thick she could hardly see the bottom of the cup. “Moon tea?” she asked, sniffing at it in a long inhale. Oracle nodded, and that was all Aurianna needed. She drank deeply from the cup, clenching her fist to overcome the bitterness. She didn’t dared spill a drop, emptying the cup in a single swig. She coughed a few times to chase the persistent taste from her mouth. The oracle placed a small wooden box in her hands.

“One cup, no more than once a week for a month. Should take care of any…lingering effects.” Aurianna nodded solemnly as she accepted the gift, grateful to have access to it, even if it depressed her to need it.

“There are trials before you yet.” The Oracle spoke somberly “I just want you to know that the Goddess believes in you, even when you don’t believe in her.” Aurianna nodded, but she couldn’t help but think that it sounded like something Matthias would say. Would have said, before everything…

“You told me before that I would face Matthias on the battlefield, if I went into the Vale of Scathan,” Aurianna started, looking down into the dwindling fire.

“Yes, and I did my damnedest to dissuade you from going,” The Oracle reminded her gently.

“You told me it would end badly, but you could have said how badly. Instead of being vague you can tell me what trials I am to face,” Aurianna pleaded with the priestess, holding Oracle’s hands within her own. The Oracle only gave her a pained smile.

“The future is constantly changing, difficult to pin down. By telling you that you would face Matthias, as a means of warning you, I reinforced your fate. Even now, by telling you that trials wait, new possibilities open up. I just see that whatever path you chose will have different challenges for you to overcome.” The oracle tried to explain, patting the paladin’s hands.

“They are serving dinner in the barracks. You should eat, and try to rest.” The Oracle directed, standing up now. Aurianna just nodded in agreement, knowing she wasn’t going to get anything more out of the priestess. She made her way to the barracks at the temple’s center.

"I used to teach on this subject," Matthias said from the corner of his cell. "Before I was elevated in rank, I mean." There was no response. He hadn't expected one, not really. The Paladins hadn't stationed a guard, and for good reason. He wasn't going anywhere.

"First, take stock of your situation. So, let's see..." He examined his chains. "I've been starved and beaten quite thoroughly. I'm in a granite cell, with sanctified steel bars. Chains of the same sanctified steel weigh me down and..." the links clinked as he examined them. "Yes. Yes, the Rune of the Chain, to bind my magic. And the Demonqueller Rune, to bind the devil that is my soul."

He chuckled grimly to himself. "And the only possessions or weapons I have are my pants. So that brings me to step two: make an honest assessment of your chances."

Matthias' crimson eyes, puffy and black around the sockets from the recent beating, gleamed as he looked around. "I am," he concluded aloud, "well and truly fucked."

Still laughing, he began to sing - loudly and slightly off key. "Eleven saintly Paladins
"Silhouettes stand against the sky.
"One in front with a blade held high
"Come to cut my sins away..."

The tune was a hymn - 'Lady, Hear Our Prayers', traditionally sang by lovers to be wed or by warriors going to battle as they approached the altar of Afodisia for her blessing. But the words, telling a story of a criminal defying the Order and awaiting death, were new. New, and failing to fit the meter in places. But it didn't need to be perfect.

It just needed to anger someone enough that they'd kill him.

---

"Lady Aurianna!" Jeoram sprang to his feet as she entered the barracks, and the other Paladins did likewise. Many applauded her return. A few cheered. All stared, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and horror. There had been no official word of what had befallen her, but... well... Aurianna was not the first Paladin to be captured by the Fallen Lord of Lust, only the first to escape alive again. And the Paladins had seen what had been done to their captured comrades, when the demons mockingly discarded the bodies before the wall.

Jeoram offered her his hand. "Please, take my seat. Are you..." he hesitated, then looked away for a moment. "Forgive me. I did not mean to pry. May I bring you food

“You’re dead!” Aurianna announced, poking Jeorom in the chest with her practice spear.

“So I am,” He chuckled pushing her spear aside to get closer to her. They exchanged longing glance for a short time.

“Let’s go again,” She said, brushed back long strands of auburn hair.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head, “I have too much dignity to let you beat me again.” She gave him a fake pout, resting her wooden spear on the ground. “You are in rare form today.”

“I spoke to the Oracle,” She explained, “She told me I would defeat Matthias on the battlefield.”

“Did she now?” He asked, a bit of disbelief in his voice.

“Well, not exactly,” She admitted sheepishly. You must not pursue Matthias on the battlefield. It will only end in tragedy.

“Ah, so that is why you are training so fiercely,” Jeorom surmised, running his hand down her arm.

“Why would she tell me, if I couldn’t change the outcome?” she said, meeting his eyes with an almost vulnerable look. Jeorom took her hand into his own.

“If you face Matthias, I will fight by your side. Together, we will repay him for his treachery.” He pulled her close now, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I will take his head, and offer it at your feet,” He moved close to her ear now, whispering, “And you will offer me your maidenhead, in return.”

“Is that so?” She scoffed playfully. His smoldering eyes easily broke down her defenses, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She bit her lip before responding, “You bring me the head of Matthias The Oath-Breaker, and I will fuck you on the altar of Aphodesia.” She took a quick, moist kiss from his lips before pulling away from him. “Now, duel me again.”


Of course, he didn’t fight by her side as she faced Matthias, he retreated from the battlefield as he was supposed to. As she was supposed to, before her pride got the better of her.

Aurianna froze as the all the people in the room turned to her. Her heart speed up as all the eyes on the room focused on her. The applause and cheers were not comforting, or even welcome. They reminded her of Baath Me’el’s court, and how they cheered on her torment. She was visibly shaken by all the attention on her, breathing in quick, shallow bursts. Why won’t they just look away? If anyone had doubts about what she had gone through at the hands of the demons, they were dispelled by her unnerved demeanor.

She nodded meekly at Jeorom, sitting and keeping her head down. “Food, please, and water,” she muttered. Jeorom grabbed her hand but she flinched away. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. With his golden eyes, his blonde hair draped over his shoulders, his fine chiseled body, and his almost too perfect white teeth. He looked too much like Baath Me’el.

Fury coursed through Jeoram's veins as Aurianna pulled away. Not directed at her, if course. At the traitor, rotting in the cells beneath the keep. At the demons, and the hurts they had inflicted on her. She was strong and brave, but he could see the horror lurking in her eyes. "Of course," he smiled, putting a brave face on for her sake. "Food and drink it shall be!"

"...and I will fuck you on the altar if Afodisia..." The words - effectively a declaration that they would marry - rang in his ears as he slipped through the crowd. Her first tast of love, and his own, should have been sacred. Shared with the Goddess as a gift of pleasure. Not torn from her by monsters.

He would kill them all, he swore. Starting with the traitor, he'd make an offering of demon blood to the Goddess. Every death would be to the glory of Afodisia and the honor of Aurianna.

Finally he returned, bearing a platter of roasted beef, and leeks with garlic, and bread with honey and butter. The platter clunked a little as he placed it on the table, and then he sat a pitcher next to it. "You're home," he said, wishing he could wash away the pain in her expression. But all he could do was sit by his love. "You're home."

---

Matthias tossed the wooden spoon into the wooden bowl with a splash. "Worthless," he muttered.

The Paladin paused at tbe door, curious. "Better than you deserve, traitor. Stewed beef and barley, even a little onion. Oracle's orders." He sneered. "If it was up to me, I'd let you eat rat or starve."

"May as well," Matthias answered.

"Hmm?"

The fallen Paladin grinned wolfishly, showing his fangs. "I need bloid," he said. "Living blood. This stew's no more use to me than hearth ashes."

The Paladin shrugged and walked away. "Gonna have a rough time then, ain't you."

"Oh," Matthias answered, "i've no doubt of that."

Aurianna couldn’t concentrate on her meal, as her heart pounded, the pulsing of her blood thunderous in her ears. Her lungs felt heavy, and each breath took considerable effort. Eyes were on her again, as she was rather obviously coming undone.

"I got to get out of here. I need air,” She told Jeorom, still not looking at him, standing before she even finished what she was saying. She carried her food with her, leaving with such haste she was practically running. She didn’t stop or slow down for anyone, heading straight for her quarters. She closed the door behind her and placed the plate of food down, trying to calm down through ragged breaths. Her face was damp, from both tears and sweat. It took several moments to her anxiety to subside. She need ed to eat, she was far too drained (literally) from the day to function without something in her stomach. She ate quickly, the food tasting far better than she had ever remembered.

Exhaustion was overcoming her now, and was eager to put this day behind her already. She took off Lord Mykel’s samite cloak, taking a moment to run her fingers along the golden embroidery. Under that, she still wore the ruined velvet robe, covered in blood and other fluids. She throw that one on the fire in the room watching as it turned to ash. Her ordeal was over, she survived. Tomorrow was another day.

The last thing she had was to put away the wooden box she received from the Oracle. She placed in on the desk, without thinking about it, until she heard a metal “clink” as the box dropped. Strange, it should have just held the moon tea leaves. She opened it to find a small iron key inside, buried under the dry, fragrant leaves. She examined the key, turning it over to figure out what it meant. She had a good idea about what it opened, but that realization only left her with more questions. Why did the Oracle give this to me? Whatever the reason, she couldn’t find out until morning.


Oracle arrived in Matthias’ cell just after his breakfast would have been served. She wore long white robes spun with golden embellishments. Her forehead was tattooed with the symbol of the Goddess.

“I asked that they feed you, but understand this food is not sufficient. Well, I certainly can’t demand that anyone offer you blood, but it’s possible someone may take pity on you.” She explained, standing a few feet away. She noticed the bruises on his face and body and sighed, “Or perhaps not.”

“I don’t believe we have met yet. I am known simply as Oracle. I have no past, only the future. I have heard much, and seen even more of you, but this is the first time we speak, Matthias Oath-Sworn.” She laughed inwardly, “It seems we may have to reconsider that title.”

“I saw so much tragedy as Aurianna hunted you on the battlefield. I tried to warn her against pursuing you, but all I did was ensure she that she was captured. I saw a future where you defiled her before our walls, and drained her of her life. I saw another where she kills Baath Me’el upon his throne, and is killed in the process. The future where she returned to us alive was so remote, yet, I had to have faith. Truthfully, I was beginning to believe that my prophecy come true because I speak them aloud. Matthias, don’t you understand. I said she would return, and you brought her back to us. The Goddess worked through you, she has not given up on you.” She paced the cell as she spoke, turning her attention back to him as she tried to convince him of his worth.

“It is…far too much power for one person to wield. I can’t even warn her of the future now, without condemning her to that fate. She still needs you. You yet have a role to play in the final battle and Aphodesia will not let you die until you have fulfilled your duty to her.”

Matthias watched the Oracle as she spoke. Had there been any justice in the world.. well, he'd be dead now. So, if there had been any sense of drama in the world, his prison cell would be darkened and she would just see his eyes gleaming crimson in the shadows. Sadly, the Order lacked any sense of drama. The room was well lit.

But... she had interesting eyes as well, didn't she? Golden eyes, eyes that saw more than the mortal.

"My duty?" he murmured, smiling. "To Aurianna? Or to Afodisia? You will recall, I believe, that I betrayed both." He shifted a little, listening to his spell-shackles clink. "I betrayed Afodisia for Aurianna, in fact - sold myself to Baath-Me'el to give her time to escape." His keen ears caught the whisper of movement from stairs he could not see, and his grin became feral. "And then she confronted me, and I gave her to the Dark Lord and his court for their amusement."

The distant whisper of movement stilled.

"And she did not, I assure you, kill Baath-Me'el upon his throne. Nor did she die, although she may have wished she would." He leaned forward, pitching his voice to ensure the distant movement could hear him. "The Dark Lord had her first. But there were others..."

"And you saved her," the Oracle said softly, cutting him off. "And now that she is safe, you hope we will kill you."

"I know that you will kill me," Matthias countered.

"You no longer have a say in the decisions of the Order, or of the Faith," the Oracle reminded him. "And whether you believe me or not, you still have a part to play. And I rather believe that your punishment will be to live."

Matthias glared at her, rage and despair flooding through him. "I had her as well!" he snapped, lunging forward. The Oracle didn't flinch was he slammed into the bars before her. "Twice! And she begged for me!"

"Pity," the Oracle answered, turning and walking away.

"I'll have you too!" he bellowed, tearing at the bars with merely human strength. "Before your altar!"

"Perhaps," she remarked, strolling out of sight. "I, too, feel pity. Upon occasion."

---

Jeoram stood at the foot of the stairs, trembling with fury at the obscenities spewed by the traitor. He'd spent a sleepless night, haunted by horror and fury and a shameful arousal as his thoughts returned time and again to Ari and what she'd endured. And he'd come here blindly, wanting to sheathe his blade in the demon's heart. No, no, that would be too easy. To beat the creature, to break its bones and make it suffer. And then he'd heard the thing's boasts and taunts, heard it glory in the horrors it had inflicted upon her. His fists clenched, and he started forward.

"Ah, Jeoram... how good of you to come," the Oracle said, stepping lightly to one side as he nearly caromed into her.

"Your.. ah... Oracle..." Jeoram stammered, trembling.

She rested a hand on his breastplate. "Be at peace, Jeoram," she murmured, meeting his blue eyes with the liquid gold of her gaze.

"I... that is..." His face spasmed as he fought the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. "How... that thing! It.. it..."

"I know," she said, simply.

"Then why do we let it live!" he demanded, voice angry. "What knowledge does it possess, that we allow it to pollute our temple? That we continue to throw it in the face of...."

"Because it is the will of Afodisia," came the Oracle's answer.

"But... but... why?" he demanded, voice cracking with pain. Tears gleamed in his eyes, and the Oracle brushed them away.

"Because she is strong," came the answer. "And she can bear much. Will bear much. And because strength grows from great burdens." The Paladin started to speak, and she placed a slim, olive finger on his lips. "Hush, now. Go to her, Jeoram. She will not admit it, but she needs love and acceptance. She needs you."

Her smile was sad and gentle as she watched Jeoram struggle with himself, and then nod. "All right, yes. You... you're right. I... will. But..."

"Shh..." she said, pushing him gently towards the stairs. "Go now. Support her."

The Paladin nodded again, then headed up the stairs. She waited until he was out of sight, then sank to her knees with a muffled cry of anguish. "And do not take her to the Altar, I beg you," she sobbed, tearing a dagger from her belt. The edge gleamed silver in the magical lights, and for a dozen heartbeats she contemplated driving it into her golden eyes.

"Why?" she whispered, blindly sheathing the weapon. "This knowledge, Afodisia... it is more than I can bear. Why me?"