"Follow the path you're on and you'll reach your destination. Divert and you may reach your destiny." ~ Sovereign of Sorrow

Serena stared at the book that provided the sweet sweet lore and wanted to toss it away. It was taunting her and her situation, promising her information and denying her it.

It was a damn tease.

A chill ran down her spine and the shadows moved around her. The darkness seemed thicker, more profound, and Serena knew she was no longer alone.

"Are you not satisfied with your new life so far?"

Serena sighed, closing the book and holding it to her chest. "It is the worst present I have ever gotten."

"Oh? Care to tell me more?" The Lord of Lies questioned, lurking in the darkness.

"When I was born again, I liked it. My life is shiny and new. Now I can tell it's going to be terrible. I do not suppose that you would take it back?"

"No."

"It was worth a shot." Serena shrugged, unsure of where to go with this. How did one address something that predated even her celestial race? They had ruled for so long there were barely any traces of what came before them, and yet this being had survived. "What is this book?"

"A gift."

Serena narrowed her gaze at the writhing darkness around her. It was obvious that he was refusing to answer. "What is the catch?"

"No catch," came the smooth voice. It was calm and soothing, without the hint of being offended or disturbed by her questioning. "It is a remnant of a bygone time, like myself."

There was the slightest hint of hesitance as if he had cut himself off from saying something. The First Devil was always steadfast and cunning, never letting doubt phase him or prevent a deal.

Or that is how I was raised to see him. It would seem he is as fallible as my kin. Serena lowered her gaze to the book that felt oddly warm to the touch. It is no wonder he would take advantage of my despair for his plans. I am no different after all.

"I see. You have my sincerest gratitude."

The abyss around her seemed to wiggle, and soon a burst of bright and cheerful laughter that should not belong to such a dark being echoed around her. It was soon smothered, but the man soon spoke up again. Faint traces of his amusement colored his voice. "There is no reason to be so formal with me. We will be working together for a very long time, so I would like for us to be friendly."

She would rather not be friendly with a damn near cosmic horror that predated nearly every scrap of information she could find. Unfortunately, Serena knew she would not be allowed to deny him such a thing. She knew who was in control here.

"Alright, my lord."

The temperature in the room dropped rapidly and Serena knew she messed up. "Do not call me that."

"What the hell am I supposed to call you?!" Serena sputtered out. Her eyes widened in horror at her failure to contain her annoyance. Lashing out, in general, was frowned upon, but to say such a thing to a being like him was more than tempting fate.

Much to her confusion, he didn't seem upset by the question. "That is a very good question. I will think about that."

He's more puzzled by not knowing what name to give than my disrespect? Is this how patrons work? Void damn it all!

"Why aren't you more forthcoming if you want us to work together?"

"What would be the fun in doing that?"

Serena leaned back, stunned at the honest words.

The devil's words were calm and focused as if explaining something clear as day to him."You would be ever so bored without stimulation since you would know most of the upcoming plans and schemes. You wouldn't be able to puzzle things out and discover things, limiting your potential, imagination, and intelligence, which are some of the reasons why I chose you."

She stood up straighter, pleased there was some sane reason-

"It would also end up with endless exposition dumps and no one wants to see that."

Serena began to regret this path she decided to take. This thing was delusional.

It is best to change the subject. "Why am I considered a Corseborn?"

"Because that is what you are." The comment was straightforward. "It would be bad for you to be at your normal power and your true race. Even having the chance of someone learning you are a reincarnation would be risky right now. Being a Corpseborn would draw enough attention."

The library seemed to distort and shift, and Serena felt that something was going to happen.

"It would appear that it is time for you to wake up. Before we take our leave of each other for the day, I will offer you another gift."

Something flew from the darkness in front of her and the soft flapping of wings caused her to instinctively stretch out an arm. Decades of experience with all kinds of animals and magical creatures or monsters steeled her nerves even as her joy and wonder were obvious. A large crow landed on her outstretched right arm. Its wings as sharp as a blade's edge swiped her cheek and drew blood. The few droplets of blood on the feathers glistened as the crow preened them.

The amber eyes of the crow stared at her with far more intelligence than the average crow, and Serena could feel a connection form as it drank some of her blood.

She set the book back down on the stand and carefully raised her now free hand in a slow manner. The crow watched her hand curiously before leaning into the touch. Stroking the head of the crow was soothing to her, and the bird enjoyed the affection.

"I will take the best care of Soot." That seemed to be the most accurate name for the black night bird.

The First Devil chuckled, the sound as dark as bitter chocolate. "Ash and Soot. Both are fitting nicknames."

Serena scowled at being the Ash in his words and she stared bitterly at her long white hair. The fond namesake fitted due to her appearance and her original demise, but it still hurt.

She didn't have long to ponder on it as the world went dark.

In the middle of an ocean made from blood, a lone young man stood on the water's surface. He gazed up at the moon, his lavender eyes staring up at the sickly green moon in the inky starless sky.

"My mental space has let itself go. Have I truly regressed to such a point?" Kalani questioned.

His voice must have been a trigger as the tentative calm around him shattered in an instant. Countless humanoids breached the surface of the water, their waxy skin and varying methods of their demise shown on their bodies would have haunted anyone. Well, anyone sane.

Someone is trying to make me feel regret? They do not know me.

Kalani was proud of his research and experiments. No one had come as close to him as reducing the chances of rejections in hybridizations or had discovered details about the old worlds and the lost realities. He had achieved so much but everything had come to a sudden end. If it wasn't for The Dark Truth encouraging him to create a risky and untested ritual, he wouldn't even exist anymore.

Very few of the pantheon would dabble with time, or even consider it at all. Only the Mad God would do such a thing and encourage it. Still, it had allowed me to continue to exist.

Hands grappled at his legs and with a single combined pull, Kalani was plunged below the surface of the water.

I wonder if I can die in my own mental space? It would be fascinating to research, but I would rather not experience it.

The dead did not intend to give him a choice. One by one, they piled onto him, dragging him deeper into his darkness.

Bloodied waters turned to deep crimson before being consumed by darkness, and Kalani was analyzing the descent.

I can not drown, at least at this moment. Neither am I experiencing water pressure. Dreams or a dream-like meditative state, can not naturally kill. Extraordinary.

The farther he went into the abyss, the more he was greeted with memories and emotions long suppressed.

So we are trying to appeal to my humanity? This should be good...

Kalani took it all in stride, or he did until the first encounters with his father and he learned the truth about his mother appeared.

That is a low blow.

His mood soured as the fleeting glimpse of a young and eager version of himself was gravely abused. Hope died fully that day and he desired to indulge in the darkest parts of himself. Nothing would be able to reach him.

Nothing could hurt him again.

Though his mother had died differently than she should have, his lineage seemed to be the same. His path to joining the Moira Institute eventually was far too early, but will likely happen as well. Certain things seemed set in stone even as the events that led up to them differed greatly. It was something to consider.

Far above him, a single spark of white light steadily grew.

What was immediately off was that he had never had a twin. Nearly a hundred half-siblings, with most dying in childhood due to monsters, humans, starvation, slavery, and disease but he never had a twin. This immediately informed him that by trying to alter the past by mentally traveling back in time to the best state for him to rebuild and plan, it had created an alternative timeline. Or his consciousness took over the body of the already existing timeline. Or there could be an endless variation of explanations onto it.

It all boiled down to his twin sister not only existing but being a Corpseborn. By all rights, she should not exist, but she did.

And she treated me so kindly.

He was no fool. It was clear to him that she was seeing everything for the first time and was lost and afraid. Anyone would try to latch onto such a person in this regard, but she seemed to genuinely care about him.

Such a thing was baffling to him, and it disturbed anything he could think of. They were both too young to move or say anything, but in time he would find out what made her tick.

The light pushed away the darkness and Kalani pulled himself from his plans to look at it.

Neither offputting nor blinding, the light had taken on a vaguely human form. Blazing scarlet eyes stared out of the otherwise featureless face, and the snow-white hair shimmered like moonlight through the purified water around them. He had stopped being dragged under by the reminders of the past, and while the ocean wasn't cleansed, nor would ever be, it was clear around them. Kalani no longer tasted blood in his mouth or felt the air leaving his lungs.

A pale and regal hand reached out to cradle his face, brushing back his water-soaked locks, and the eyes softened into a dark cherry hue.

He wanted to move the hand away, and yet a part of him longed for the warmth. Even if the kindness was suspect and he could be opening himself up for more suffering, Kalani wanted something to hold on to.

Marama turned her head away from her vigil of the entrance at hearing the sound of whining coming from the babies and Arima. She gave a wan smile at them before brightening up. They needed to get some food in them. Before that, there was dealing with the large and monstrous feeling crow that was perched on the cot next to Serena.

It might have looked like a normal bird but to the slayer's keen senses, it was anything but. The damned thing had swooped out into wagon through the window and made itself at home next to the infant. It didn't intend to hurt any of them, but she could tell it could easily do so. Protecting these possible cultists and criminals was going to be hard enough, but dealing with a monster that could turn on them at any time was a bit too much for her.

The only good thing was that they would be heading to a few suspicious locales, head to the southern deserts and the trade cities there then return to the port city of Azutria for the spring festival. It was a straight line with no detours so it would be far easier to track the comings and goings here.

"Arima, I want you to stay inside this wagon as much as possible. If you must leave, you have to return within a few minutes. I'll leave you books and food and whatever you need. I'll also be checking the wards daily."

A grim resolution settled down on his young face, and Arima nodded.

Mara set about leaving some traveling rations of bread, cheese, and jerky along with several books for beginning to understand concepts and ideas for the young boy to keep himself busy. She changed the twins again and once done headed outside.

For the last few minutes, she had been hearing shouts of a group looking for someone coming from outside. Since it was early morning, and they had stopped in the middle of a forest clearing a little bit away of Netherthorne, Marama figured it wasn't due to them being attacked. At least not by monsters.

No sooner than she stepped outside than she saw a young woman collapse a mere handful of feet away from their wagon. The woman was muttering gibberish, which was more than a little alarming since that meant they were someone from another world or refused the blessings of the Ascended.

Marama nudged the woman's ribs with her boot, earning a sharp, pained wheeze for her trouble.

Her body is fragile. She was treated badly, likely by the merchants here. The monster slayer looked down at the broken woman with half-opened eyes. It is terrible how standards have dropped. You shouldn't harm the merchandise.

Marama closed in while the young woman's fear made her too scared to speak up. She grabbed the stranger's head carefully with her hands and took a deep sniff in the dirty blond hair while a myriad of scents provided her with information.

A human woman from an Earth-level world. About nineteen. Malnourished and disease-ridden. Need to consume sweat or blood to know the complete condition. Marama glanced over her body to take in the general condition. Broke her arm twice once at the age of six with the other time at the age of twelve. The first one was an accident from a tree and on the soft grass. The second was domestic violence. Lived by the lake in a home next to the fish market. Had four daisies in her room and no pets. The father was an alcoholic who had hit her often. She had wandered into this world due to an incident at the lake. She has been in slavery for a year and fifteen days. She had been violated far too many times for anyone to remain sane in that amount of time. She has cried for four hundred days and...

Marama gazed into the teenager's scared eyes. The teenager covered her face with a raised he covered with arm raised as the platinum blond-haired woman didn't say a word.

…She is three weeks, four days, eleventh hours, forty-five minutes, and six seconds pregnant.

Marama grimaced as she held her chin in thought. There were a lot of ways to handle this and the entire thing was terrible in so many ways. Having an untrained and rather a valuable Outworlder being treated like a common pump and dump, rubbed her the wrong way. There was so much potential, and if nothing else, she would have been sold to the Moira Institute if it was discovered she was pregnant. There were some experiments in the last century or two regarding naturally born hybrids, so that is always something to consider.

This woman is mentally, emotionally, and physically broken. She has no chance of surviving, and these primitives who know nothing about maintaining a flesh trade would just continue to use her.

The woman started to ease up as the muscular slayer lacked hostility.

Marama sighed sadly while the choices ran out. There is only one option left.

The platinum-haired monster slayer looked down at the scared woman and held up a hand towards her to help her up.

"I know the suffering you have faced. I know how many tears you have shed and I know of your sleepless nights where you prayed for an end to your pain." Tears built up in her eyes as Marama's concerned words reached through the broken soul. "Rejoice! Your prayers have been heard and I am the angel who will lead you away from here to a better place."

The woman cried tears of relief and hugged her in response, relieved over to not being assaulted.

"Sovereign of Sorrow, Lord of Light, ruler of the Serene Meadow! Please hear my prayer as I speak for the innocent who suffers in the absence of your light. Hear the heart of this innocent soul and open your arms to embrace her in the realm where no darkness exists. Open the doorway to your light and release her from the burden she is carrying. Free her from the suffering of this world."

As Marama prayed, she carefully put her left hand on the back of the teen's head while placing her armored right hand under her jaw.

A few tears rolled from her eyes and she snapped the teenager's neck like a rabbit in one fast-twitch.

"…May your next life be far brighter than the one you had."

The woman's lifeless body hung like a big ragdoll in her arms.

Marama's eyes remained closed from the prayer. She sighed heavily and carefully put the body down on the ground with the hands crossed together over her chest. She rubbed the tears away from her eyes, while the search party finally found them.

The slayer looked at the group of armored humans, smelling their fear and a few with traces on the teen. Tranquil fury settled down around her, numbing her feelings regarding the trafficking and abuse.

Standards have truly slipped.

It was better to have standards, or lines to not cross when dealing with such activities. It was why she was so effective in her previous occupations. To control from within, when things would happen regardless.

The Moira Institute did allow me to investigate things how I wished and they never cared about how they were handled. Marama grinned wolfishly, her pale blue eyes glowing with a feral intensity. This was going to be fun.