"Stop! Stop right now!" A voice cut through the song, the voice of an angry, hateful creature wounded by life and poisoned by death. The song continued in spite of the insistence.

Suggested Listening

The young redhead stood combat ready, facing down her much older and larger opponent. An opponent who was unconcerned while she was soaked in the sweat of her exertion. She ducked under a kick, stepped far enough back to avoid the other, and even managed to block a punch. She was not prepared when the punch turned to a grip on her forearm.

She hit the ground before her brain realized her elbow was dislocated. She grit her teeth, knowing full well that screaming would be met with worse scorn and more violence, but the tears welled up in her eyes nonetheless. The pain relented with a burst of soothing, healing energy.

"Again!" Her mother shouted at her.

With fatigue cleared by magic, she forced herself to stand, but the mental exhaustion was getting to her. She only blocked a single punch, before the next came under her guard and caught her in the solar plexus. She dropped, gasping and unable to breathe.

She heard her mother walking away. "At this rate, you'll never be good enough. Clean yourself up, we have a visit with Duchess Esmera this afternoon."

The girl tried to shout at her mother, to scream that she'd surpassed her older siblings, and how unfair it was to expect a child to fight an adult. An argument that would be met with more scorn, asking her if she'd make the same complaints when facing a Chimera or Dragon. All she accomplished was gasping and crying on the cold ground.

"You don't understand! You'll ruin everything!" The song marched on, ever changing, adapting to what was needed as it was needed.

Suggested Listening

"I think the undead are powered by resentment," Elruin said.

"Resentment?" She hated to admit it, but her knowledge of theology and thaumaturgy were both limited. Given the pettiness she saw between factions of scholars, priests, and nobles, the fact that they all greed without hesitation that the undead could not be allowed to persist was proof enough of the necessity of destroying them.

"Or something like it," Elruin said. "Life is fueled by creation, by emotion. Death is fueled by negation, the loss of all emotion, death brings peace. Undeath is something between. Negation dimmed their emotions upon death, but couldn't destroy them. They persist by stoking what passion they still have."

"How does Scratch fit into that theory?" The ghost's nature called much of her beliefs into question.

"Scratch is the same, but he... resents his own resentment, if that makes sense." Elruin frowned, considering her explanation. Then she remembered one of Kasa's books that she borrowed. "It's like being in love, backwards."

Cali smiled at the little girl sitting across from her. "What do you know about being in love? Whose legs do I have to threaten to break?"

Elruin didn't answer, because there was nothing to answer with. She didn't know if she experienced love or resentment as others did. "It's possible to love someone who's terrible, and bad, and does awful things. But it's still love, even if you hate it."

Cali's smile vanished. That girl cut too deep, sometimes, yet never realized it. "That's what you think the undead are?"

"A dark reflection of the living," Elruin said. "We hope for the future, they hate the past. We create, they consume. We seek safety for ourselves and others, they seek destruction of the same. We have love, they have resentment. Scratch knows that about himself, and hates it, that's what gives him control of his nature."

"I made an oath," a soft voice answered. The voice of merciful death. "I will fulfill it."

Suggested Listening

"I don't know what they're talking about, you're a great fighter." A quick tug on her arm brought Cali to her feet, face to face with the somewhat taller green haired girl. "You got a hit on me. Half my instructors can't accomplish that anymore."

"Maybe you should fight my mother," Cali muttered. She rubbed her knuckles, where she hit Juna's chest and might have broken her own hand.

"That third-tier socialite? Sure, and after I get done with her, maybe I'd fight something with a bit less fragile, like a sparrow's egg." Juna stopped for a moment. "Sorry, I know she's your mother, but you didn't get your strength from her side of the bloodline."

"I hit you, but I still haven't touched her." She bit her tongue on arguing further. She wasn't sure how to stand up to the older, stronger, more confident, more important, and more confident girl. Besides, it was nice hearing someone talk about her mother this way.

"Because your'e fighting her on her terms, instead of making her fight you on yours. You're a water mage. The whole strength of your aspect is overwhelming a target with unpredictable forceful attacks, which is why you do better fooling around with me than you do fighting seriously against her."

Some part of her still suspected Juna was lying to make her feel better. "Easier said than done."

"I'll show you everything I know about getting kicked around by someone who can hit you three times before you know where the blows are coming from."

The song remained, the memories changed.

Cold, unforgiving metal held Calenda. She'd forgotten how uncomfortable metal could be, thanks to her natural toughness. "For the last time, I refuse to marry you! I don't care what threats you try. I promise, my mother did worse than you would be able to stomach!" She hoped she was telling the truth, but knew she was lying.

"I'm trying to save your life, Calenda!" Lord Garit's face still bore the marks of bruises from his clash with Lord Claron. Three of his teeth, by Calenda's count, were now missing. Once he got access to a healer that would all be undone, but for now he looked much less pretty than usual. "I know you have your problems with how Juna and I run... ran... the city, but I thought we were friends. I thought I'd earned some level of respect."

Calenda had to admit, she liked him a little better this way. Hurt, frustrated, angry, it reminded her of their childhood together. If he acted like that more often, maybe she'd find the idea of marrying him to be less intolerable. "I surrendered with everyone else, why am I singled out?"

"That Oathbond you hid from us, that's why." Garit said. "And because of your connection to Elruin."

"Leave her out of this!" Cali strained against the metal, absurd as the thought was that she'd be a threat to Garit even with his current wounds.

"I wish I could." Garit sounded sincere, but Calenda had seen him fake a lot of things before. "King Claron demands the girl be brought to him, to be sacrificed to Lord Enge at the mouth of the Holy Caldera. He intends to lead the ceremony himself."

"But that's insane! Enge doesn't demand sacrifices! And if he did, it'd be through the church, not some lunatic!"

"All I know is it's impossible to learn what Enge desires. The prayers are being ignored. Everything is in chaos. But I'm here to help you, and to help her if at all possible."

"Says the traitor."

"Says the man willing to sacrifice everything, even his own dignity, to protect his people!" Garit paused for a moment, to collect himself. "No, I won't let you bait me into another argument. I am no longer the child you remember. I was able to convince King Claron to let you live, if you marry me. The marriage oaths will be used to enhance and rework your current Oathbond. Then King Claron will use me to make you extract Elruin from her current position."

"On one hand, torture and death, on the other hand betraying the only member of my family I like even if she is adopted, then serving as an incubator for your spawn? Seems like an easy decision to me. Go choke to death on Claron's cock."

"You think I want you so bad that I'd rape you? Sorry, Calenda, I've got more self respect than that. You have my oath that I will never touch you unless you ask me to. And then beg my forgiveness for these insults."

Calenda hesitated for a moment. In her attempts to upset Garit, she let herself be blinded. "You have a different plan, don't you?"

"I need you to get Elruin out of the city," he said. "Preferably alive and not in King Claron's hands. Pull that off, without anyone realizing it was my goal all along, and I'll consider saving your life to be fair compensation."

Cali's eyes narrowed. "What's your angle."

"Same angle it's always been: to protect my people." Garit shook his head. "You know this. You've always known it. For reasons nobody's been able to explain, scrying magic has been disrupted throughout the kingdom, perhaps the entire empire. We thought it was something to do with the Ghosts of Sorvel, but now I'm not so certain. They're as blind as we are."

"Which means if Claron's as obsessed with Elruin as he seems..." It galled her to admit it, but Garit was a smart man. If only he wasn't such a cold, manipulative bastard.

"He is, he's not a good enough liar to fake it," Garit insisted. "But I won't tell you any more of my plans, for obvious reasons."

"Or," Cali added. "You're saying all this to trick me into luring Elruin into an ambush."

"I can't prove otherwise, and wouldn't if I could. You'll just have to be better than my hypothetical ambush plot, won't you?"

The tone softened, pulled at another string of thought, another fragment of self.

Suggested Listening

"You're going to ask me to die, aren't you?" Calenda stared up at the ceiling. "Then take it the next step beyond, into something I've spent my entire life hating."

"It's the one way I know to break away the chains around you." Elruin squeezed Mister Squishybones, reminding herself of all the kindness Cali had shown her over the last few months. A kindness which she would defy death itself in order to return. "To end your suffering, and return your freedom."

"Sounds like something a priestess of Yeris would say." Something of a 'sister' deity to Ecross, Calenda knew the basic tenants of the borderline suicide cult. "If you were offering me a way to die, it would even make sense. Instead you're trying to bring me back as a broken half-person like Scratch. How is that better than slavery?"

"It doesn't need to be half," Elruin insisted. "I've been studying how the undead work. I was hoping I could convince people to let me keep my dollies. I know now that nobody will ever allow me to, but I can chain your mind to your body, as long as I do it before you die. Then, you'll be in control of yourself when you come back. It's just like how resurrection spells work, but without the healing magic."

"If it was that easy, everyone would be doing it."

"It won't work on everyone," Elruin admitted. "It takes strong will, anger, resentment. In that, it's no different than 'natural' undead, but I can accelerate and amplify the process. And it does mean you'll need to stick close to me, the way Scratch does. The taint can't be cleansed for the same reason you can't cleanse life from a body without killing it. But I'll be able to suppress it. You'll remain you for as long as I live, longer if we can find another necromancer to pass off responsibility to in the future."

The twinge of compulsion pushed her forward. "And... will this improve the chances of convincing you to meet Enge directly?" She'd given up on the possibility of Elruin willingly sacrificing herself.

"I refuse to answer that," Elruin said. "If you don't know whether it will help or hurt, then you're free to make your own choice, rather than being forced into it by the compulsion of the magic. And, once that compulsion is broken, I promise to exorcise you if you prefer death to undeath. As soon as we get outside of the peace aura, because I can't hurt you here no matter what I try."

"If you used the compulsion against me, I would have refused," Cali said. "But I will hold you to the oath of letting me die when I want. Or I'll find a way to kill you, then myself."

"Scratch can break my control whenever he wants," Elruin said. "You'll be able to do the same."

Suggested Listening

Resentment. Anger. Hatred of the past. These are the things which allow the dead to defy death. Focus on the hate. Focus on the song.

"Defend yourself!" Her mother shouted.

Calenda responded as normal, taking a stance and putting her arms up for the onslaught her mother would deliver. A kick, ducked under, another she ducked forward, putting herself closer to her mother's reach.

Mother jabbed, in a somewhat off position due to being too close to her opponent for proper use of reach and power. After dealing with Juna's aggressive, powerful style, she could see why her friend had such disrespect for the older forge mage's talents.

Driven by knowing she landed fair hits on Juna, she pressed her position and sacrificed defense for offense. A single blow to the skull was nothing compared to the beating she received from fighting defensively, and it put her in range to punch forward into her mother's stomach. Another punch, and a third. Flashes of energy screamed that she was inflicting real blows against a foe unprepared for such a self-destructive strategy.

She felt the flow of magic clashing against magic, then her eyes widened. She now understood the sensation of magic flowing over her skin. More, she understood what those sensations meant.

Mother drew together her power, a tornado of fire began forming to drive Cali's assault back.

High on the thrill of victory after years of struggle, Calenda kept pressing her advantage, drew her own magic together, and struck the epicenter of flowing magic, ripping it apart with her fingers.

A ball of fire, pain, and screams erupted around them, burning away their skin and flesh. A week later, she would awaken to learn she was the only survivor of her overconfidence. True, her mother was brought back later at significant expense to the family, but it would mark the last time they ever spoke to one another.

Calenda's eyes snapped open, burning with tears she could no longer shed.

"Cali!" Elruin held her, crying enough for the both of them. "I'm so sorry, I never knew!"

Her new muscles moved well, perhaps better than her old. Her new skin could feel the warmth of Elruin's touch, and she could still smell the sour scent that came from not having access to bathing water. It was less intense than it might have been for someone else, perhaps the girl's age and death magic kept her aroma to a minimum. All her senses were different, better, and some part of her was eager to learn what that meant in the future.

"That's fine, Ell," she put her arm around the girl's back. "I never told anyone." Later she would ask what this building was that they were in, and who the girl watching from the corner was, but for now it was nice to be alive again, or some twisted corruption of the concept. A small price to pay for her freedom.