Dammit, dammit all! Kat could not help but clench her teeth, struggling not to scream as she so desperately wanted while she hurriedly made her way through the tunnels. While instinct had led her here, that same instinct so gleefully abandoned her as fear and panic took over her senses. The dark flickered and danced under that quiet light, the shadows throwing themselves across her field of vision. She was utterly lost, her blind panic slowly fading as she realized that she knew not where she was nor how she could escape. She was a rat in a maze, helplessly doomed to remain here until she wasted away into nothing but bones. Bones, she thought while fighting back a yell, why is it always with the crow-cursed bones?

No, there’s still a chance. What was it that Faith had told her? Power, in return for service? Aye, there was always a final option, should the moment arise. But she would not grasp that hiltless sword until there was no other choice—for such a blade surely cut both ways. Nothing came without a price, and such a promised power would cost her more than her life. But what is this life worth, she asked herself, if I’m to rot away here? If these demons who butchered my friends turn their sights on the rest of Altaros?

The thought was unbidden, but not unfounded. With King Alerick’s death, the entire country had been thrown into disarray—every nobleman worth the name scrambling hurriedly to fight for the throne or support someone for a title later. These backstabbers and stringspinners were like old fools engrossed in a table game; they would hardly even notice the demons gathered here until it was too late. Every one of the demons was worth a hundred soldiers, particularly if they were still the drowning fish that she had last seen in the legion. She would not surprised if they only ever realized when they felt the coins falling out of their pockets as they died.

Skal’va to the south and demons to the north, what kind of god did this kingdom spit in a previous life? Yet if she had to choose between the two foes, the distant one was always preferable, was it not? As far as she could tell, the skal’va could not go past the Gates by virtue of whatever magic still held in those grand stones—even if their commander had managed to slip into her dreams. These demons sat in the very heart of the country; if they ever made their way out of thes mountains, she doubted there was a force on Altaros that could stop them. That god’s power you’ve been offered might, a part of her whispered, and she could see Revan bleeding from the throat in front of her.

Yet there was only more to the worry this time, as she relived that nightmare in her thoughts, her heart pounding. The demons were swarming over the rills, the air filled with the echoes of their sonorous cries. There were howls and wails, chattering shrieks, rumbling bassos that shook the earth under their charge. The legionaries that stood in their path trembled, cowering behind wooden shields that would do naught against bone and hide.

She could see it before her now, those beasts leaping on top of the front line. Shields were only as strong as the man holding them up, and no man could ever fight back against twenty stone bearing down on him. They would crumble and fall, blood and gore spraying out of their bodies as they died. That armor would do nothing against those claws, against those bone-scythes and blades; they would crumple like dry leaves. The first charge would break apart the legion’s formation utterly, and those soldiers would be quick to collapse as well. Even veterans would panic underneath those rampaging beasts, and without their discipline they were no legion—just fodder.

But if the legion was to fall, could anything else hope to stop demons turned loose on Altaros. Magic, perhaps, but not with their king at hand. She had never seen any channeler half as competent as that lupine beast, nor any warrior that could hope to last longer than ten heartbeats in battle. Those Abaratt with their heavy hooks, the Skaavosi with their arrows, even the Malifori on horseback—if there were any of them left—they could not stand in the field against the demons. Abaratt speed, so long famed and so crucial to their fighting, was nothing against these creatures who moved faster than light.

Skaavosi arrows were no more than an irritant against that hide, against those glimmering scales. She could see them already, a hail of arrows turning the creatures into pincushions. Some would fall surely, but more still would press forward. They archers would be forced to flee, but who could outrun a beast? And their fliers, some part of her reminded herself as she fell to her knees, gasping for breath. Aye, there had been leather-winged demons amongst them. They would plummet down past the fortifications, over whatever trenches were dug and whatever walls were erected. Archers were trained to fire in volleys, even the Skaavosi on their galleys. No volley would work on a foe above one’s own head—and panicked snap-shots would be as useful as prayers when those shrieking demons rained down.

Malifori used speed as well, relying on horseback and arrows to keep their foes at a distance as they harried their prey. They would fire the first volley and then dance back as their foe gave chase. When the enemy began to tire, the Malifori fired once more. Then they would collapse on the wounded things, perhaps even giving chase until the fools bled out and died of their wounds. That was how the Malifori fought, but it would not work against demons. Speed was of no use to a foe that fought by ambush and surprise. Even the nimblest of horses would fail when one of those demons came bursting out of the underbrush, fangs bared. Even the fleetest of horses could not outrun a demon flier.

She ran all these thoughts through her military mind, considering all angles she could imagine in the hopes that perhaps she had overlooked something. Yet it was for naught—this foe was one that would emerge victorious, the most that any Altarosan could hope to do was wound them. Perhaps, if all could be rallied to the cause… Yet even then, what would it be but a slaughter? Soft flesh and weak muscle simply could not compete to those beasts, she knew it in her heart. But shadows might stand a chance against those claws.

Faith had offered her the skal’va, surely she could turn them against the demons? If she could control them, they could be a tool then, something to save her countrymen. Revan, her parents, she could save the Heartlands from these creatures. All that would be needed was for her to supplicate that dark god, to give up her humanity. For your lover and your people, is yourself not worth the price? Or would you consider your own life to be worth more than all of theirs? Are you truly so selfish?

Another impasse, another fork in the road, and here she stood without any idea how to proceed. A small smirk spread across her lips as she reached a branch in the tunnels as well, reality reflecting her thoughts as she drew in a deep breath. This was not enough, not enough to make her choice. One foe to be defeated first, and the skal’va might be her ally if they could be believed. That was the hope, was it not? That she used the skal’va to best the demons and then restrain them for eternity as their jailor? Kat almost wished to laugh out loud at the notion. So simple, is it not? Truly this is one of those tales that the bards sing of.

Gritting her teeth, she knelt down against the stone and closed her eyes. Faith, she thought furiously, knowing that the corpse-thing would be watching her. I would speak with you. She did not know what she was expecting as an answer—some message, perhaps? Some inner voice that whispered softly like a temptress, honeyed and gentle as it poisoned her heart? Yet there was no response, only her sitting there like some fool, waiting helplessly.

With her eyes closed, there was only blackness around her. Yet, ever imperceptibly, that began to change. She saw the briefest hint of flickering light, much as there was often when first closing one’s eyes, dancing spots that flashed intermittently in and out of existence. They clustered together the center of her field of vision, and sudden everything around her warped with a brilliant flash. There was a popping sensation in her ears, her eyes flying open in surprise, and she could not help but wonder if she was dreaming.

The floor beneath her could not be seen; it was as if she simply could not gaze at it. She could feel the stone underneath her, certainly. She knew what ought to be there, but in her vision it was only a siwrling black. The tunnels as well, had been snatched away, replaced by that emptiness that ought not to be there. In that empty void, there was nothing. There was no sound in her ears. There was no wind brushing against her skin. It was blissfully quiet, blissfully empty.

This is the presence of my god, came the whisper and from the darkness she could feel a familiar presence. It took no form this time, took no shape in that empty void. She knew that Faith was there, although precisely how, she could not explain. As if hearing her questions, the shadow-thing continued. This is the blessing of Atal. The body you are familiar with is but a vessel. A tool. My god has stripped away fleshly fetters. I am now in his embrace, whole as was meant to be.

You know little of my god, perhaps. You associate Atal with death and destruction, perhaps. But he is not the fearful creature you would imagine him to be. He is emptiness. He is peace. Atal is what there was, before there was anything. He was the first void, and he was what we will all return to in the end. He is the womb of this world, and it is from him that your existence came forth. Thus death is not an end, but a journey back into the folds of his embrace.

Kat tightened, feeling the thumping of her heart draw her away from that mesmerizing emptiness. Enough of your prattling, she thought, for she was afraid to speak in this silence. What of your skal’va? If I serve this Atal, will they be mine to control? There was a pause before any answer came.

These countries of yours are not so fluid as they would seem. Altaros has stood for thousands of years, resisting the call of my god. Creation resists the call of its maker, despite everything. And so each land will only have one arbiter in its midst. Much as your predecessor was the only one in Altaros, and I was the sole arbiter in Malifor. The children of the skal will be yours to command in your lands, but they cannot travel to another’s lands.

These pretty words made her rage with impatience. She had no time for this. Meaning what, Faith? Will they be mind to use against the demons? Or will they butcher my own people the moment I loose them upon the field?

They are but tools, Katherine of House Black. Tools will do as the hands wielding them command. Know this: if you do not take the mantle of my god in Altaros, there will be another. And they may not be as virtuous as yourself.

She thought hard, knowing that the hourglass she held had only a few grains left. Indeed, this certainly could be a lie. But without a way out of these tunnels, she would die. Without a way to stop the demons, her people would perish. And if she did not accept this offer, it very well might go to another man that would rather see the country burn to ashes. A single choice, to sate all these wants. Such an easy choice, really—just one word. So small now, in hindsight. I’ve made my choice, she decided with a despairing resolution.

You made it long ago.