The Game - Acting it out [Team Dawn & Dusk]

[Gromhir]

No! Gromhir turned to look at Kamalia. He could feel the magic she had conjured form in the air and knew what it meant. Even before the Master spoke his words, Gromhir knew what was about to happen. His form broke in to pin pricks of light forming the crouching body of a man. “Win the game,” he said firmly, casting a glance to Stitch. With those three words spoken, the massive wolf took the man’s place once more. What came next though was wholly unexpected. Gromhir paid little heed to the happenings around him, focusing only on his bondmate. As the form of the shield morphed in to something more, Gromhir leapt towards Kamalia. As the arm swept out, smashing the actor aside with ease, Gromhir hesitated. There was very little he could do against such power. The Kelvic froze in place. The very familiar and painful image of a small boy being tortured by a mage leapt in to his mind. Frozen in place and unable to move, Gromhir was easy prey for the darkness inside Kamalia. With only the fear and pain in his eyes as protest, the Kelvic was hoisted from the ground. The first hit against the ceiling knocked the wind out of the canine. He gave a yelp of pain and struggled fruitlessly against the steam that pinned him. There was nothing Gromhir could do as he was helpless and powerless to do anything. All his heart knew was fear and pain as he could feel his body being crushed around him.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The moment Kamalia cast the spell, the Konti’s seer sensitivities were gripped by a terrifying conviction that something had gone wrong. Very wrong. She heard her bondmate’s protest in her mind as the shield of res slowly formed in front of her and realized what he meant—realized it too late. The spell was out of control. A scream of pure, primal rage tore from the Konti’s throat. Never had the magic refused to obey her command! And then she whispered again, her musical voice bereft of temptations now, yet it spoke with a passion, seething with wrath and jealousy.

Magic desired Kamalia for herself and only for herself, like a fanatical lover, as if it had not destroyed much of her identity and shoved her far from her siren homeland. She was deeply jealous of Gromhir, and she knew Kamalia had only employed magic to protect her bondmate and her loved ones, not because she loved her, not because she wanted her—she who had been with her from the very beginning. It was always him.

It was always him!

Magic wrestled for control over her body. It immediately overwhelmed the Konti’s willpower, and without thought and against her will, her mouth opened. Steam poured out of her mouth, coalescing with the summoned res. Unseen fingers touched the young Konti, and her body twitched, ready to obey. Abruptly the smell of power and death lay thick around her. The sorceress struggled, wresting for control, yet try as she might, the magic was immensely more powerful. When the apparition assumed the Konti’s form, Kamalia knew the battle will soon be over. She shook in fear, immobilized by her own dark power, and she felt her will draining away like water out of a holed bucket.

Let me oooout! The magic shrieked. Kamalia’s arms and legs stiffened, and her heart leapt when her icy apparition drove an icy fist against her masked counterpart, sending her hurtling against the wall and abruptly ending her life. The next few moments were the most terrible nightmares made real. Her magic turned to attack the man that mattered most in her life, as chilling steam coiled around his canine neck and raised him towards the ceiling.

No! Let go of him! The Konti protested, once again struggling against the controlling embrace of her jealous power. Kamalia stared at her companions, the unfamiliar moisture welling up in the corner of her crimson eyes. The look she gave them was some kind of a plea—to save Gromhir, to strike her down. This was her greatest fear. They saw the light of last hope fade from the Konti’s eyes as despair occupy them. With all her heart and desperation Kamalia shouted to the gods to save Gromhir, silently tried to will strength into the person she loved most. Avalis help him! Kamalia’s skin prickled, and her bones felt as if they were freezing, ready to split open. Mother Avalis help him, live! Save him from foul magic! Strike me down!

Hot tears ran down her face. They felt strange and unfamiliar. Abruptly she discovered another emotion: anger. Kamalia and Gromhir were no sheep to be prodded into a pen. Gromhir would feel his bondmate's courage returning for him. She was tired of being weak, tired of being afraid and fearful. The anger squeezed itself into one hard knot, and she clung to it as she would have clung to a raft in a flood. Borrowing strength from this anger, she fought for control once again, with all her will, with all her power.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden’s arms bulged and his feet shuffled a little, but otherwise remained planted as his hand struggled with his copy. It was frustrating, fighting someone who moved exactly like he did, had all of his strength and ability, his speed and experience. More than that, his copy made the same move he did almost at the same time in mirrored reflection. While Jaeden pulled one way, the copy pulled the other. He pushed with sword and body, the copy pushed back. At one point, Jaeden went to kick his copy between the legs, but merely fond his leg colliding with jAEDEN’s in the end. It was a perpetual stalemate in the end. That in itself wasn’t entirely a bad thing, however. While Jaeden struggled with his copy, it meant that the copy was out of the way of barring Stitch from his ultimate goal, which was merely to touch the door.

Other things seemed to be transpiring that would complicate matters entirely as Jaeden soon caught kAMALIA’s copy thrown around like a doll and shouts of struggle and violence from behind that didn’t seem to be a struggle with elements of the game itself. It concerned Jaeden to a certain extent, but he didn’t take the moment to look back, giving the majority of his focus and gaze to his current struggle at hand. Then, there was a grunt, and the sound of metal piercing flesh as all the strength in jAEDEN’s body left him and he suddenly fell back to the ground, motionless. Jaeden’s gaze lifted from the corpse, soon finding sASIN standing there with a bloodied dagger in hand, a confused look on his face. Jaeden then just gave a nod to the copy as his sword was held at his side, but still gripped tightly. “Well, good to know. I’ll let him relay his wishes of what he wants done next then.” Jaeden said as he looked over his shoulder, now frowning slightly as he saw Grom being slammed around by a steamy apparition of Kamalia. “Seems there are other things to contend with right now.”

Jaeden then leaned forward a moment, another wince appearing on his face as the pain of his intestinal complications made itself aware. In the end, he still moved forward, his sword lowered as he began rushing towards the struggle going on. He had no idea if his actions would help or hinder things, but in the end it was better than just simply standing there and gawking. It didn’t take long to close the gap, and as soon as he did, his sword was swung upward as he tried to cut through the steamed arm of the magical apparition that was holding up Grom and slamming him around. He had hoped that such an action would disrupt the magic enough to free Grom from the violent grip.

He continued on, moving towards the source of the magic next. Whether his first attempt worked or not, it would be likely that it was only a temporary solution to the problem. Jaeden sought to cut off that flow as he began to rapidly approach Kamalia herself this time. “Sorry about this.” Jaeden then said in Kontinese as left hand soon swung strongly through the air, his left fist swinging through the air as it rushed towards the side of Kamalia’s head. If his strike connected, he hoped it would at the very least cause her to become disoriented, possibly unconscious. He hoped such would, in the end, would cause the crazy magic that Kamalia was forming to disappear. He had no idea how magic worked in the long run, however, so he wasn’t entirely certain it would work. He only ultimately hope that this magical formed evil lady Kamalia wouldn’t take on a full life of its own.

[Stitch]

Everything was happening all at once, and Stitch could sense it, on the edges of his perceptions. The Actors were falling all around them, one of them even struck down by a traitor on his own team. The brightest Aura in his perception was that of Kamalia, and that was also the only Aura that managed to totally terrify him. What was happening to her? How was her Aura twisting and twitching in that way? And was that magic swelling up within her stomach, curling around her lungs, and riding a wave up her throat? Stitch lifted a hand from Gromhir, hesitantly turning, reaching it out toward Kamalia. He was about to take a step in her direction, was just opening his lips to ask her if she was alright... And everything came undone. The Djed exploded from her body, manipulating itself into a lifelike being, one that was desperately trying to match Kamalia's own form. It reeked with anger and hatred, it's attentions violently directed at... Gromhir. Stitch turned again, his mouth once again opening to call out a warning for his companion. Once again, Stitch's reactions were much too slow. There was so much going around all around him, and he hadn't managed to lock his Auristics onto one thing. His senses were going haywire, and everything was just flitting along at such a frantic pace. Before he even realized what was happening, Gromhir had been pulled from his grasp, and was being hurtled to the ceiling. Stitch could only wince as the Kelvic connected with the stone above, the cracking sound echoing out across the room. What could he do in this situation? What was there to do? That Aura... That magic that was pinning his friend to the ceiling... It was magic powered by magic, and it was ice and water. He couldn't hope to cleave a continuous rush of ice and water in two, not with his bare fists. That only left the source, and the source was... Kamalia. The sorceress. Finally, something was becoming clear in all of this. She was the source. She had finally lost control. This is what Gromhir had been afraid of, this is what Stitch had been dreading... And now it might cost someone their life. If Stitch wanted to save his friend, he would have to harm the other one. Could he do it? He had Flux in his legs, perhaps he could rush it to his arms, to his fingers... and forcefully disrupt her own magic flow. But the door! He was painfully aware of how much focus was directed away from it. Even he, in his state, was distracted from it! He wasn't a threat at all! Every bit of attention was focused on the Kelvic pinned to the ceiling. He had an opening! He could lunge for the door, and it would all be over! He would win, and he would be able to save the children! But then... he couldn't choose both. Out of all the people he could turn to, he now turned to Sasin and Jaeden, a conflict raging on his features. He was torn. What was he supposed to do? What were they doing? Almost the minute he looked at him, Jaeden moved, raising his sword high. Stitch grimaced, and took off in the other direction, the movement coming in a surprisingly easy fashion. His legs bulged with power, and he covered the ground in great lunges, giving each leg a surge of power as it landed on the stone ground. As the foot connected, it would leap off with greater force than his normal muscles would allow. Hopefully this would lengthen his leaps, speed his steps, and heighten his jumps. Jaeden would take care of Kamalia and Gromhir. He could trust the Milord Jaeden with this. That is why he had made for the door so fast, right after Jaeden had made his own move. Trust. Good excuse, Stitch. No, he had heard Gromhir. The Lord had told him to win the Game! The Lord wanted Stitch to win! Excellent excuse, Stitch. With a cry, Stitch hurtled himself toward that door. He would throw himself at the door when he got near enough, fingertips outstretched to touch to the barrier. He needed to touch it. They all needed to win!

[Nyahna Sasin]

Well damn. That did sound like something he would do. Despite himself, Sasin grinned. He really should have known better than to trust himself. Although which him he was talking about, even he wasn't sure off. At any rate, he could deal with this when it came to him.

Jaeden was fighting with his double, both of them using identical moves. Stitch and Gromhir were moving towards the door. Kamalia…

He had turned to look at the Konti, just in time to see the steam creature seize Gromhir by the scruff of his neck and pin him to the wall. Wincing slightly at the crack of bone meeting ceiling, he quickly glanced at the others. sASIN was sneaking up on jAEDEN, who was still in combat with Jaeden. kAMALIA was dead. Stitch was staring, as was sTITCH.

He could ignore Kamalia for now. It would take her a while to dispatch the wolf, and he had no doubt that someone would do something stupidly heroic. jAEDEN was now dead, and, yes, he was right, Jaeden was running at Kamalia. Stitch was turning to lunge at the door, and sTITCH was turning as well.

Turning away from the assassin. Bad idea. Sasin ran towards the actor, who didn't seem to realize his impending doom. Pulling out his knife, he bounded towards the blind actor, grabbing him by the chin and pulling it up. His knife flashed as it dragged across the man's throat, serrated edge parting skin and muscle.

[Tarot]

What was this magic? Was it a different entity or just a part of Kamalia's being given voice by the power of Djed? And did it even matter in the end? What mattered was that Kamalia felt her very being torn apart from the inside. It was as if her heart were about to start pumping blood the other way. Her every muscle was as tense as a violin string ready to snap. Her vision was blurry from the shock and salty tears. And maybe it was just her imagination, but another voice flowed gently in Kamalia's mind. Unlike the magic's haughty and seductive voice, this was gentle and almost sad. "I am sorry, my daughter," was its faint echo, "this is a battle only you can win. A battle you will wage for the rest of your life. I can lend you my eyes, but not my arms... and never, ever ask me to have you undone." It was just a shadow in her vision, but Jaeden's hand fell upon her, hitting the Konti with enough strength to make her falter. She dropped down on her knees, and the giant fist loosened its grip on Gromhir's neck. The Kelvic landed heavily on the floor below as the steam apparition let out a boiling scream. "No!" It was a turning point in the battle of wills, and Kamalia started getting the upper hand once more. Slowly, ever so slowly, the vapor was being pulled back into her being and down her throat, with the creature of magic hissing and cursing in tongues unknown to everyone in the room. "No! All these colors! This world is mine! Not the darkness again! I am the real one!" The hand of steam grew sharp nails and dug them into the floor, scratching it deeply in an attempt at delaying the inevitable. At some point, the steam started losing its shape and returning to Kamalia more quickly. Within a minute it would be completely absorbed again. Of course, Stitch had long won the Game by then. It hadn't been hard in retrospect. Just a matter of rushing to the door and touching it. Nothing special happened when he did, and for a moment it remained doubtful whether he'd even won or something had gotten in the way again. Next thing they knew, the fake sTITCH dropped down dead, his throat graced with Lhex's smile. Throughout the Game, Sasin had been more of a negotiator than anything else. Right here and now he reminded everyone his career lay elsewhere. The fake sASIN, the last remaining actor, nodded his approval. Sasin still owed him anyways. A strange silence reigned over the room. "This isn't over," the voice was once more in Kamalia's head alone, but quickly fading into nothingness. "I am everything you want to be. I am the answer. I will not be denied..." And then there was no more voice, just spasms running through Kamalia's muscles. Her entire body was rocked by these convulsions. Each looked like an invisible explosion pulling and pushing on her muscle and sinew. Blood trickled down her nose and the corners of her mouth. Medium-level overgiving. She would survive, but magic was out of the question for a good while. At least she had been to overcome the dark pull of the other side. "Well," the Master stood and left the support of the wall, "I hereby declare the Game officially over. Congratulations to the winners. That you managed to win despite your poor coordination is a testament to your abilities. As for me, I am much like the Konti lady on the floor. I, too, spent my life struggling with my magic. And the magic won. What's left of me?" He took off his mask, and revealed that he did not have a face behind it, much like the actor Gromhir had previously unmasked. The sight was quite unsettling and he quickly put the mask on once more. "In my case, we had a split that I couldn't call amicable. My magic and I went our separate ways... more like, he dumped me and left me for dead. My magic was quite successful without me as a burden. Would you like to see and then claim your prizes?" The man snapped his gloved fingers, and the final door opened quietly. It opened onto a vision - how else could it be called? It was like a window on the past, showing them a past that had been. A red sky seemed to be about to burst open as wicked lightning ravaged a nightmarish landscape. Black-clad masked figures were running between burning fields. They were gathering in front of what looked like a Watchtower in the middle of a forest. The Watchtower flared and a man stepped out of the powerful glow. Right after he used it, the tower started cracking and the Watchstone on its top shattered into a thousand shards. The man was human, an old Benshira. His robes were torn and blood-stained and a hideous wound ran down his chest. He was holding, almost crushing it, a heart in his hand. "It is done!" he proclaimed to the assembled men, "and five years earlier than I anticipated. Ivak sure saved me a lot of trouble. My dear human heart, I don't need you anymore." And he tossed the organ aside; it landed on the grass. "At last I am where I belong." Suddenly, an elegant Eypharian woman stepped out of the trees. She carried marks on her face and, while beautiful, her countenance was serene, but stoic. The Benshira turned her way, grinning broadly. "Ahh, Lalilah, have you come to congratulate me too? Have you come to receive my marks?" "No," said the Eypharian. "I suspected as much," said he, "once a traitor, always a traitor. First the Pressor's family, then Pycon, and now me, right?" "You have upset the balance, Sahgal Hrinn. It must be restored. You had your chance to make a difference, but you turned out just like the rest... only more dangerous." The wizard made a face of mock surprise. "And pray tell me, who is going to restore the balance? You? Or..." It was like a flash. In the blink of an eye, a woman stood right in front of Sagallius, newly made god. She was dark-haired and terrible, clad in a flowing tunic and wielding a curvy-looking black blade. The expression of defiance died off on the wizard's lips. "Or me," said the woman. "You may be powerful among mortals, but a mere newborn among the gods. Know your place, and perish." With a graceful motion, she skewered Sagallius with her sword. "Thank you for your assistance, Goddess Dira," said Lalilah, bowing her head. "This must be a busy time for you, trying to keep the universe together and so on." "So it seems, but I can always spare time for..." Dira stopped suddenly, her expression turning to surprise and anger. The corpse slumping on the forest floor was not that of Sagallius, but one of the masked men. The god himself was standing in the crowd of perfectly still servants. He chuckled and made his way to the front, spreading his arms. "Newborns are tricky things, milady. And they invariably smell like trouble." "What... what have you done to these people?" There was cold anger and surprise in Dira's voice, though she already knew the answer. He shook his head. "Your age of absolutes is coming to an end. Like the new age, I am everyone and no-one." "Gug-darak," the woman growled uncharacteristically. "I thought I'd dealt with that monstrosity a long time ago." "And I've remade it from scratch!" He took off the mask of the man whose place he had taken, "But milady, nowadays we call it 'Unity'. Your age is beginning to show." Dira's eyes narrowed as she counted all the masked men who stood besides Sagallius. "Lalilah," she said, "I am sorry. This shouldn't have been your day, but I have no choice." The Eypharian bowed her head gracefully. "Every day is our day, Goddess. I have no regrets." Dira closed her eyes and her sword started glowing. As she rammed it into the ground, it unleashed Dira's true power. The very essence of death burst in all directions like a black wind, eradicating all life within miles of her location - down to the simplest organism. All the masked men fell together with Lalilah, but such unfocused power could not have killed a deity. The two gods were alone now. "Even the mighty Dira can do a sloppy job sometimes. I am shocked." "I cannot waste any more time with you." Dira readied herself in a battle stance. Sagallius, though, he just smiled. "I'm afraid you will have to, milady." He spread his arms and all the masked men stood again. Golden strings linked them to the Puppetter's hands, loyal dolls in his possession. "The world's a mess right now, isn't it? Things refuse to live, others refuse to die. Every second you spend here, milady, doing your warrior princess thing, the universe is one step closer to annihilation. Without death there is no life, yes? So, which is more important? Winning a battle that will take you days just to break through my tricks - or making sure the sun rises tomorrow?" Dira bit on her lower lip. "You once-in-a-thousand-year wizards, always more trouble than you're worth." She glanced up at the sky. The sun and the moon were out at the same time, and the latter seemed to be bleeding. May Leth have been struck by some enemy? It really sucked to be the goddess of death some days. "Enjoy your time - your borrowed time. It shan't last forever." And with that, Dira vanished as quickly as she'd arrived. The Benshira laughed and turned to his former heart lying on the ground. "See what I can do, my old human heart? You understand now? Magic is the ultimate lifeform, the next step in evolution. And I, as its highest representative, will ascend to its throne in the pantheon in due time. Poor thing... all this time, I was the one using you." Suddenly, the Master of the Game willed the door shut, ending the vision. "But even a old human heart knows a few tricks," he said. "That heart, is me. And the power unleashed in the Valterrian as well as by Dira allowed me to absorb a huge amount of energy. My magic decided to forsake his human heart to acquire a divine one, but for anything gained there is something lost. I survived and merged with the souls of his Gug-darak dolls as well as Lalilah's soul." "I survived and started the Game in hopes of getting my revenge. And now, I may be able to grant a wish to each of you with the power I have left... my legacy. The very fact there are strong people who know - people he won't easily manipulate - is a threat to him. It is the most I can do, anyways." He looked at the five of them. "So, what are your wishes? I will grant them within the limits of my power."

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden’s left arm quickly slinked around Kamalia’s waist after he struck her, catching her and supporting her weight as he saw her frame begin to fall towards the ground. His gaze quickly turned when he heard the shrieks and cries of the steamed apparition created by the magic and dark emotion echo through the room. His jaw clenched and breath quickened as he saw the magical presence claw along the floor as it was being drawn back into Kamalia herself. Jaeden didn’t think he, or rather the strikes he had given, were solely responsible for this and a lingering thought in his head wondered, while holding Kamalia, whether or not he was at the epicenter of something worse to come.

Jaeden gripped his sword tightly, his feet planting firmly along the ground as he began to lean back whenever the steam itself drew close. After another long moment, it had finally finished, the presence that had escaped Kamalia being drawn back inside, leaving silence in its wake for the moment and allowing Jaeden the opportunity to let out a slow exhale of relief. Jaeden slowly lowered Kamalia to the floor at that point, looking over towards her Kelvic companion to see if his actions proved to be within time. “Sit, rest for a moment.” Jaeden then simply said as the Heart’s words began to echo out once again.

Jaeden slowly stood himself up again, taking another long look around before slowly slipping his sword into its sheath, hopefully to not be drawn again during his time within the magical keep. Then it finally came, what the prize had been. There were so many things that the participants of the game could have speculated it to be, and at the end of it all, most of them would have been right. A granted wish. True enough, such a thing had limitation, but someone granting the wish of another could equal into almost anything. The silence that fell upon the room next was not hard to understand as the remaining players processed who the game’s master was and now what he was offering.

Would they take up arms against Sagallius, and in doing so ask for some ultimate weapon or trinket that would allow them to defeat him? In the end, Jaeden didn’t think it was likely there would be such an item. True enough, this Benshira usurped power and wasn’t born a God, but that only lent testament to just how dangerous an opponent he was. He now had divine power, forcefully taken from a god. He would have needed power of his own for such a feat, but more than anything he would have to be highly intelligent and tactical for such. Jaeden couldn’t even imagine planning out the entire task of stealing power from a god, and it caused him to wonder if this man, this Benshira, didn’t play some large part in causing the Valterrian itself, all for the purpose of obtaining divinity. Chances were, due to such facts, that some powerful weapon or shiny bobble wouldn’t effectively end this Sagallius’ reign.

Jaeden finally just lowered his head, letting out another exhale, this time less in relief. Jaeden didn’t want anything from the game in the first place, but learning that he was now potentially a threat to a God, he would need to garner something in order to protect himself. Some material item, however, wouldn’t do in his mind. When he had finally made up his mind, Jaeden debated on whether such would make him more of a target or not. When the silence continued for another moment, Jaeden slowly stepped forward, looking to the Heart. “Well, I certainly can’t speak for everyone else here,” Jaeden began as he rested his hand along the hilt of his sword, “but I can say that I won’t be actively seeking out this usurper. His power may have been stolen, but for all intents and purposes right now, he is a god.”

Jaeden let another moment of silence pass by as he gave a small rub along his chin. “Still, the fact that you say we’re potential threats just for knowing about all of this now makes any of us deciding not to go after him inconsequential to certain extent.” Jaeden continued as his arms folded over one another. “Considering such, I would like to be prepared in the event I’m considered some loose end that he wants to tie up. It’s really difficult to think of some item or thing that would help with that. In the end, chances are there are none.”

Jaeden tilted his head slightly looking around the room for a moment. “After seeing everything here today and that vision, magic seems to surround a lot of everything that’s brought us here today. It seems to be at the very core.” Jaeden said before a slow shake of his head, looking down to Kamalia. “At the same time however, after seeing what happened to Kamalia, and how it drove this guy to steal a gods power, I think wishing for powerful magic will just perpetuate the cycle. So my wish is simple. Just the knowledge of it. I wish for knowledge and lore on all magic in the world, especially detailed lore and knowledge on Sagallius and his divine abilities. His tactics, what his followers are capable of. The more I know about what I’ll be potentially be up against, the more chance I’ll have at being capable of countering it.”

[Nyahna Sasin]

The Konti was spasming, her entire body jerking and shuddering, and she was bleeding. Sasin watched, curious, and slightly disturbed. He had never seen magic been overused like this. It was fascinating. The price of being able to shape the world, he supposed. Insanity. The idea of it made him shiver. He liked his wits, thank you very much.

Questions bounced around inside his head, all fighting to be heard. He watched as the door opened, as the vision unfolded before him. It answered a few questions, and gave him many things to think about. The watchtower… he didn't recognize it. He only knew a few things about Pre-Valterrian times, and hadn't known there had once been other watchtowers. Or, come to think about it, that you could teleport through them, it appeared. He was fairly certain that was no longer possible, otherwise he would have heard about it.

The eypharian seemed rather odd. She had been willing to go up against a Benshira, a god she would have had no hope of beating, and had been willing to die for her goddess. Such devotion, and well, humility seemed very alien to him, coming from an Eypharian. He knew, first hand, just how arrogant the entire race was. They weren't really devout, simply worshiping for tradition's sake.

Gug-darak, otherwise known as Unity. That was what Kamalia had said, wasn't it. Long lost magics, merging souls. How such a thing was possible, he wasn't certain. But it was certainly worth knowing about. Perhaps even worth learning.

And finally, this god… once a human, it seemed. Amazing. He hadn't realized that was even possible. Sagallius Hrinn. He would have to remember that name.

And now, their prize. A wish to be granted for each of them. An open ended offer, with so many possibilities. The heart wanted revenge. And they had been dragged into it, and were now potentially targets of a man who had once killed a god. Lovely.

Sasin sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes as he started to think.

There was a god who had once been a man, and a being who had once been a heart. The goddess of death was in opposition of this usurper god, and they were now in possession of knowledge that could potentially cause said god to come after them. Whatever side they chose, they were at risk. Join Dira or the heart, and they risked Sagallius's wrath. Ditto for staying neutral. Join Sagallius…. There was an option. He would have to do some research on the man, make sure it was somewhat safe, but it could work.

Still, it was fairly obvious to him what he needed. But what form it would take, that was the question.

He glanced up as Jaeden started to speak. It appeared the man had been thinking along the same lines as himself. He smirked as the man asked for knowledge of magic. Smart. But knowledge would only get one so far, really. What he needed was…

"Protection" He murmured. Some means of defending himself. "Invisibility, or, even better, immunity to whatever sphere of influence this god has. Just something that will give me a better chance of survival."

He was much happier staying on the defense, for now. Let Jaeden fight him. Sasin believed that he who fought and ran away, lived to run away again, and again, preferably with several enjoyable years in between.

[Kamalia Timandre]

I deny you!

Like a possessive lover, magic wracked the Konti’s body, stormed her heart with a tempest of crushing emotions, and brutally fractured her mind. It was as if she were being split into two. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to scream a primal scream of rage and desperation, to drown out the dark laughter that rang exultantly in her head. She wanted it all to end, despaired for all the pain to subside, and prayed for everything to stop. Most of all, she prayed hard for Gromhir to be saved—for a divine power to yank him away from the malevolent grasp of her darkest sorceries. Suddenly, there was a soothing, motherly voice that sang in her mind. In that moment, Kamalia knew the Goddess of Seers had listened to her pleas. Avalis calmly told her daughter that it was she alone who must conquer this anathema. Alone she must battle with her darkest power. Alone she must fight.

Kamalia did not fully understand. During her childbirth, Avalis had revealed that her path was to become a mage. Why could She not help her now? Was this a test of her faith?

There was an explosion of white light when Jaeden drove his fist against her temple. The blow was not strong enough to dispel the steam apparition entirely, but it seemed to waver for a moment, giving Kamalia an opportunity to strengthen her resolve and wrestle once more for control. Her love for her bondmate, her conviction to win and her mounting anger had become her anchor, enfeebling the dark being that clung to Kamalia’s soul. Delaying the inevitable made everything all the sweeter. The vapor gradually started to lose shape, being pulled back into her body. Within a chime, the apparition dematerialized into the sorceress’ throat.

“I deny you,” Kamalia whispered to her inner voice. “I deny you. I deny you…”

She allowed Jaeden to carry her weight; she was light and limp as a discarded garment. She leaned against him and whispered a weak thank you in his ears. Her muscles felt sore, her skin felt as if they were pierced by a multitude of needles and her entire body heavily convulsed. She softly asked Jaeden to bring her to where Gromhir was, and as the man carried her in his arms, the Konti moaned and whimpered in pain. Her body felt ice-cold, but her panting breath against his skin was almost scalding. She was fire and ice. Blood dripped from her nose and mouth, and she could taste a metallic tang on her tongue.

Abruptly Kamalia flung her arms around Gromhir, burying her face in the ivaski’s fur. “I did not mean it,” she said sobbingly in Kontinese. “I did not want it. I can never do that to you, Gromhir. I swear on our bond. I swear by the holy name of Avalis. Truly, I swear.” Her shoulders shook and tears blinded her eyes. “But, Avalis help me, Avalis help us all, I am too dangerous, Gromhir. I could not control her, and she is getting stronger and stronger each chime.” Kamalia’s arms tightened around him as if she would pull him back from what had happened. She held him as if her life depended upon his approval. She shivered. She felt so cold and scorching at the same time.

Kamalia was not surprised when the Game Master unmasked himself to reveal his faceless visage. She was disconcerted by his declaration that they had finally won, as if her logical mind could not accept it as true, yet her goddess-given Gift told her that that the Game Master was only telling the truth. They had won, but at what cost? The Game had almost severed his friendship with Stitch, broke her body and mind through overgiving, and almost took away that which she valued most in the world. They won, but oh, the price!

What unsettled Kamalia more was that when the Game Master mentioned that he had spent his lifetime struggling with his own magic, and the magic won. What would become of herself, Kamalia wondered, if her own magic triumphed over her? Would she become faceless as he?

The Game Master snapped his fingers, and the final door swung open. She watched, wide-eyed, as the vision started to unfold before them. She saw the crumbling Watchtower and witnessed the apotheosis of Sahgal Hrinn. She saw the masked Gug’darak, the forbidden Lost Discipline of Unity at work. She watched as the Goddess of Death, allied with a champion of Logic and Order, skewer the newborn god. She watched Dira failing to slay the wayward godling, and saw uncertainty in the goddess’ eyes. She watched Sagallius, throwing away his human heart, discarding everything that he was. She heard Sagallius himself declare his ambition to ascend as the God of Magic!

Oh, sweet Mother Avalis! Kamalia’s mind reeled, and her hand moved feebly to massage her aching temple. She was sure that seeing this vision hurt more than the blow of Jaeden’s fist, much more so for one who possessed an active, sensitive Sight. And then came the final revelation: the Game Master had merged with the heart of Sagallius, with Lalilah and the Gug-darak dolls to fashion the Game in the hopes of getting vengeance. She could not believe them all, but everything the Game Master spoke was utter truth—truth as plain and merciless as sunlight.

The Game was designed to push them beyond their limits, to test the strength of their will, and to assess their capabilities. It was made to prepare them to fight against the God of Puppetry and Manipulation. It was as if pieces of a grand puzzle were showing up and assembling themselves in Kamalia’s mind. Unknowingly, unwittingly, they had become puppets to the heart of Sagahl Hrinn, and threats to the god Sagallius himself.

Kamalia had so many questions and her mind quickly formulated more as she waited for her turn to speak. When it was her turn, the Konti tried to stand up. She leaned against the massive ivaski, her arm circled over Gromhir’s neck. All traces of emotion seemed to have suddenly disappeared from her face, as if her desperation was only a dream long gone.

“Lord Sahgal Hrinn,” Kamalia said calmly, her face was as placid and unruffled as a still lake. “My mind reels at the thought of fighting a god. It was not our choice to meddle in the affairs of divine beings. Their affairs were not for us to know, and far be it from us to desire challenging the might of a god. This choice was taken from us and we have no choice but to either flee from the cords of Sagallius, or battle him, is that not right?”

It dawned on the Konti sorceress how she and Sagallius were so much alike. Sagahl Hrinn’s magic had seemed to develop a consciousness of its own. The god whom they call Sagallius now was the result of the Benshira’s sentient magic, and no one even seemed to know what truly happened. It was too shocking. Too incredulous, actually.

They were conversing with the heart of the most powerful wizard that Mizahar had ever known. The Konti attempted to stand up without Gromhir’s support, mustering dignity and all the air of command she had known to summon when she did not want to feel so small. “Then, if we are to fight him, we will have to battle his servants and his followers as well. My wish is threefold for my survival is important to me. Simple artifacts and trinkets will not do. What I desire is to learn the art of controlling Gug-darak—the Lost Discipline of Unity. Perhaps with this ancient magic, I may be able to keep our enemies at bay.”

Kamalia was taken aback by her own words. Did she want such power, after all? “My magic has grown more powerful, so does the control it holds over me. My second wish is to learn of a way to tame this anathema inside me without giving up my magic. I wish to get rid of this... darkness that grows in power inside me, yet I cannot even begin to imagine the thought of losing magic forever. Such life would be akin to a singer without ears or an artist without eyes. If you can tell me where to begin searching for answers, I would be grateful."

“I have read that the mighty former court mage of Alahea once owned a collection of powerful staves. My final wish is to gain possession of one these staves to help me fulfill this undertaking. I will battle him with the very weapon of power he once used, emblazoned with the memories of his mortal heart,” the Konti said serenely.

“But this vengeance, what good will this do? Sagallius wishes to enthrone himself as the God of Magic. What will happen to the weavers of djed should he achieve this?”

[Stitch]

Stitch slouched against the door, refusing to look behind him. He even forced his Auristic eyes forward, keeping them focused on the door he was using to support his tired body. He let the Flux slowly settle, the Djed rush within his body eventually going back to it's proper places. He had no desire to summon up any more power. By all means, this Game was over. If it was not to end now, then they had lost. There was nothing more than that. He was painfully aware of how much pain Kamalia was in, and just how much her magic was consuming her. Even if he focused all of his Auristics onto one single point, he could feel her, in the back of his mind. At the edge of his vision. But, thank the Gods, the power that held her was slowly fading. Even if they hadn't won, Jaeden had managed to save the Lady from herself, and in turn, the Lord Gromhir. As if to answer his last worry, the Gamemaster suddenly moved, voicing their victory. Stitch let out a sigh of relief, pushing himself off the door, deciding to collapse down to the floor instead. He sat there, and pulled out the Note with trembling fingers. Chewing on his lower lip, he gave it one last glance before balling it up and throwing it far away. He had won, so it didn't matter anymore. The young Stitch was much too trusting of whoever had wrote the Note, and didn't give a second thought to the fact that he might be in danger. In his mind, it was all over. They had won the Game, and the children were safe. He would be able to go home after this. Faintly, he realized the Gamemaster was still talking. They were to see his tale, and why all of this had came about? Stitch watched, the blazing Aura of the Door clearly telling him all of the tale. He didn't know if the Gamemaster had known that Stitch would be able to interpret the story with his blind eyes, but he managed. It was an odd way to absorb such an outlandish story, really. Even as the door closed, and the tale came to an end, Stitch merely sat there with a bit of a slump to his posture. Goddess, this was too much to understand. He was merely a humble Orphanage owner, one who wanted to live his days in peace. He wasn't really one who had been chosen to play in this infernal Game. He was just someone who had been picked out a crowd, one who had been easy to blackmail. Now, his role was over. This didn't apply to him. This wasn't anything that concerned him. He had known the basics of the story before this encounter, and now, he knew the intimate details. What did it matter? He felt sorry for Priskil and her plight... But the magnitude of the situation was lost on him. He was a simple man. Stitch waited for each of them to tell their wish, and remained stoic through it all. Even if he had issue with Kamalia's wish, he didn't say a word of it. He didn't voice his displeasure, nor did he let it show. He was tired of all this. He just wanted to go home. After they were finished, and the Gamemaster looked to him, Stitch gave the man a weary smile and slowly began to speak. "Milord..." Stitch paused, searching for the words to say. He would seem like a simpleton. He was a simpleton. "...this one wants nothing." Again he paused, as if to give it time to sink in. He lifted his head, and stared dead at the Gamemaster, matching the Heart's gaze with an Auristic one of his own. "This one is merely an Orphanage owner. This one has come, and this one has won. That is all this one needed to do in order to keep his children safe. This one is certainly no threat, and certainly will not become one in the future. This one wants nothing to do with this Game any longer. And certainly not a wish, granted from this fool of an adventure." Again, Stitch paused, and when he next spoke, his voice had hardened. "Tell me, milord. How many people have played in this Game? How many people have you killed in this Game, while searching for the perfect tools for your revenge...?" Stitch sighed, shaking his head, his voice softening again. "This one... can try to understand. Perhaps your actions are warranted. This one is short sighted, and this one is aware of it. This one apologizes if this one insulted you, for this one may very well be wrong... but right here, and right now? This one cannot see the good in this. This one would politely decline. This one wishes to no longer be mixed up in these affairs." His smile grew a bit, and he looked upon the Gamemaster, an odd sort of... pity in his tone. Almost. Perhaps it was just sorrow, mixed in with a strange sort of love. "This one is sorry you have had to live such a painful life, since then. This one is sorry if your life was painful before. Such a struggle against such a magic must have been hard. Save my wish, milord. Save the power you would dedicate to such a thing, and simply continue to exist. Here, in the Wildlands. You may be needed one day in this fight against this Wizard of Magic... and one day, perhaps this one will see you were right." Stitch simply bowed his head, and once more retreated into silence.