“You should not have come.“ A voice hissed out from the darkness around the corner. “Whoever you are. There is nothing in the realm of the Facestealer but misery and slow decline into madness. Take your little hopes and run.“ A cold gust of wind ran through the maze, ruffling my hair and cloak, carrying the wet stench of mold and death, while a hollow scream shook my bones to the core.

Moonlight Jester held his belly as he laughed, bending over backwards. “Oh the drama!“ He gasped. “It is a good play, but that is all darkness is, right? A play.“

I felt much less bravado. In addition to the painful memories I associated with being underground and surrounded by darkness, the voice cut right to my core. It was like millstones grinding my willpower to dust, every syllable a gush of water driving the mill around and around.

[Breaker of Chains] did not activate, what the rational part of me would have expected, which meant that this was not a supernatural attempt to somehow control me. It was just fear, plain and simple, my own feelings agitated and inflamed. There was a Skill at work, though, or something else. Maybe an effect akin to the Mastiff of Dread I had in my Demesne.

“[I Walk Where I Please],“ the Jester said, turning the corner, “your cheap tricks will not spare you the spanking you earned yourself for your despicable actions today.“

“Fool!“ The Voice hissed again, angrier this time. “Continue and perish then, disregard my warnings. You will feed the ever-hungry shadows and become one with the wails of despair, it matters not to me.“

With the dexterity of a god and the speed to match, the hand of the Moonlight Jester shot into the shadows, so deep and black they were almost tangible, From within those shadows rose a wail of a thousand voices, screaming and lamenting. I shuddered under the noise, the despair and pain screeching and scratching in my mind. What was mortal in me reacted with revulsion, pity, and gave in to desperation itself. This is what it meant to be mortal, to feel pain, to fight and lose, to get trapped in the ever dark maze of a crazed god. The futility of the human condition was plain for me to see, and it threatened to break me.

“Snap out of it.“ Bones ordered at my side. “This is nothing but a squid spraying ink in a desperate attempt to flee the sharks. We are the ones smelling blood.“

“I honestly cannot say what this is.“ The Jester suddenly said. He held a spherical thing in his hands, pitch-black, but with bright eyes and a mustached, toothy mouth, snapping after the painted face of the man. “But it was the source of the voice and the fear effect.“

“How dare you, impertinent fool? I am the hissing darkness, the voice of the shadows, the beast waiting under the bed, whispering into the ears of the poor and mighty alike, I am the poison of terror and despair...“ The voice muffled to silence as the Jester just stuffed the ball into a sack of linen he had produced from his countless bags and pockets.

“Well, I am not taking THAT.“ He said as he held the sack an armlength away with a disgusted look on his face.

“I have enough squabbling idiots around me all the time. It is yours, Raven. You can use some company.“ Bones grinned.

“But...What even is it?“ I asked nonplussed, receiving the sack, moving, and talking with a still muffled voice.

“I don‘t care.“ The Jester grinned. “But shut it up, will you?“

Which I did not manage to do. In the end, I just put the sack under my cloak and learned to ignore the constant stream of threats of doom and promises of a miserable end in this darkness or that shadow. It was not loud enough to truly give us away too soon, we were not sneaking around in any case.

After what felt like an eternity, the Jester led us up a set of stairs. He was constantly in motion, checking on cracks in the walls, the floor, and around corners. If that was to check for traps and ambushes or to satisfy his endless curiosity, I could not say. The happy jingling of his many bells was all around us, sometimes even the only thing leading the way.

There had been no creatures in the darkness. Which, as far as I could tell, captain Bones seemed to find rather disappointing. I could tell he yearned for a fight, in the way he gripped the handles of his cutlasses and the violent promise in his eyes.

We climbed the stairs, ascending in the middle of a square platform of stone, above us the night sky. We stood atop of a pyramid, towering above a forest of destroyed and crumbled pillars and columns. A whole forest of stone-carved pillars as far as I could see in the darkness.

The night-sky above us was blank, not a star or moon in sight, there was no light, absolutely none. I would have assumed that darkness would work better contrasted by some light, but the powers that be in this Demesne had awful taste to begin with.

They stood, as masses of rolling fog and shadows, in front of us, clearly awaiting a challenge. There was no way to tell what they were thinking or feeling, with their faces hidden behind those changing masks of them, but they showed no immediate aggression, which surprised me.

“You are no strangers to me. The jester who stole the moonlight and the admiral of the Scarlet Tide. We were no enemies before, and yet you come bearing arms and assault the Demesne of one of mine.“ The central figure of them, which I now knew to be Lord Sombran, said in a neutral voice.

“See, that is what I like about you high and mighty.“ The Jester cackled, almost maniacally. “What just came out of your mouth implies that it would be unjust for us to be here. That there could be rules you are too mighty to regard but we better should remember.“

“You know us?“ Bones grinned his bloody grin. “Then you should know that we do what we please and rules are nothing to us. And what pleases me most of all right now is to punish your lackey for insulting my friend.“

The mass of darkness in front of us hissed in anger and hurt pride, towering up. “You would threaten war? Over what? That whelp?“

“That whelp that just gave you all a beating, with none of us involved?“ The Jester smiled. “We wouldn‘t be here if you were as competent in fighting your fights as in making a grand entrance, which I can respect by the way. Love what you did to the place.“ He bowed to the Heron, standing to the right of Lord Sombran.

“Only Idiots fight wars.“ Bones spat. “We come, we take, we leave.“

„How dare you address Lord...“That was the Heron, surging forward, but held back immediately by his superior. There was hissing and then silence.

And my turn to speak.

“I dare,“ I said, walking a step forward, chin held high as I stared at the masks in front of me, “because I need no reason to defend myself. I dare, because you had the audacity to attack me. I am neither the Moonlight Jester nor the Admiral of the Scarlet Tide, my name is nothing you would have known to fear. I am the Raven and I will make sure that you will never forget to be careful of me ever again.“

There was a second of silence hanging around the darkness between us, just a small, fragile second. The silence was so intense, I almost could hear it. It was the calm before the storm, power drawn into bodies, Skills and weapons readied, muscles tightened and enemies locked onto.

Waves of darkness, even deeper than the normal surroundings of this Demesne, exploded out of the figures in front of us, answered by a tidal wave rising up from the ground on Bones' side and banished by the moonlight carried by the Jester to my far right.

I called the Dogma of freedom to my side and felt it washing through me, a pool of power ready to be spun, thrown, and called forth.

Immediately, I imagined the Darkness to be a tightly woven net and urged the power in my core to cut me free before I could be caught for real. Silvery afterimages of slices and cuts exploded all around me, tearing the net to pieces, falling harmlessly to the ground as I sped through them, Kingsbane already drawn.

My enemy would be the Tongue, ultimately the man that had betrayed the sanctity of our trade. The Jester would take on the Heron, which would have the most cards up his sleeves, this being his Demesne and his reality to shape. The Jester was best equipped to deal with the unforeseeable, as he had confidently stated. Captain Bones would battle the leader, Lord Sombran himself. Both of them, the Moonlight Jester and Bones, were nothing but confident, especially after they had learned that I had beat the three of them back by myself, albeit in my own Demesne.

The Tongue was a liar, a diplomat, and a thief. That much we had learned prior to assaulting the stronghold of the Heron, depending on who you asked. We did not ask around for long.

He rose to meet me, amassing spears of shadow behind his back even as his whispered poison entered my ears.

The ground changed, transforming into vines and tendrils of shadow, grasping after our ankles. I jumped, confident to be able to stay above them. Bones yelled something and ghostly sharks erupted out of the ground around him, tearing the tendrils to pieces. The Jester was nowhere to be seen, his laugh and the jingling of his bells the only proof of where he had been just a second before.

My cloak fluttered with the speed of my jump as I crossed the field of grasping shadows in a heartbeat, the ever-rotating silver mask of the Tongue the only constant in the mass of shadows in front of me. Suddenly, the spears behind the Tongue flicked alive and shot in my direction.

I activated [Airwalk], launching myself above the barrage, turning in the air, and dragging Kingsbane behind in a spiraling summersault, ending in me slamming the sword down with all my might.

At the last second, the Tongue had produced shadows to block my assault, but Kingbsane cut through the black sheet covering the man like butter, banishing the darkness outwards, hitting the Tongue as he threw himself backwards. He tumbled through the grasping vines, bleeding the stuff he was wrought of, like a tipped ink well.

I slammed to the ground as well, throwing another wave of my Dogma out, cutting the tendrils that grasped me, a constant slicing and tugging as my Dogma continuously battled the attempts to impede my movements.

I sent the wave forward, carving me a way to the already rising Tongue, who turned to me advancing on him. I saw his head swivel to his comrades, then back to me then...he just blinked out of existence.

Roaring in anger, the heat of the battle that had taken me not quite satisfied, I turned to the others. It was a sight to behold.

Bones darted in and out of the darkness, surrounded by his sharks, carving pressure explosions of water into the darkness trying to smother him, his two cutlasses weaving death upon Lord Sombran, who could barely reflect the cuts with the shadows he conjured faster than my eye could follow. But Bones was faster.

On the other side of the pyramid, the Heron had thrown everything against the defiant laughter of the Moonlight Jester. The ground was a battlefield of craters, exploded stone, and pools of black liquid. Finally, the Heron raised his scythe, yelling in desperation, and rushed the Jester, who, in turn, just ...took the Scythe. Stole it right out of the Heron's own hands, with not even a flicker of movement to give him away.

As he studied the weapon with curiosity, the Heron slid past him and hesitated, clearly out of options. He too blinked out of existence. As did Lord Sombran a couple of heartbeats later.

Bones laughed in pure delight, as we met in the center of the pyramid. “That was worth it. Thank you, Raven, for the opportunity. The Lord whatever was not half bad in a fight.“

“Mine was, though. And Raven‘s adversary, too. They must have been young.“ The Jester said.

“Who else would be a lackey to someone else?“ Bones asked, throwing me a look, half apologetic half displeased. He had wanted me to be his man, not so long ago.

“What now? What is happening?“ I asked trying to calm myself.

“They all fled. Left Limbo entirely and returned to their bodies.“ The Jester explained. “They had nothing to gain anymore, especially the two that were fighting for their friend. They will be around. But the one with the awful sense of interior design?“ He looked around with a raised eyebrow.

“What of him?“

“What do you want to do to him? His is yours to take. He is yours to destroy.“ The Jester leaned forward, the black, crying half of his painted face turned towards me.