My eye was entirely red, and I wasn't quite sure what it meant. I moved closer to the mirror, stepping over the corpse of Muscles the slaver. I peered into the mirror at my face and studied what I saw, that odd crimson hue drawing all my attention.

I could hear the girl from before as she ran outside, yet I didn't care as all I saw was the red eye. I breathed in deeply, I tried to calm down and force the hallucination I was obviously seeing to go away. At first I didn't even notice the change, then it became too obvious not to see. The crimson slowly was replaced by slices of my natural blue, as though pieces of the red were being cut away each time I blinked.

For a while I simply watched the change, I found it to be a combination of amusing and horrifying. I wasn't certain why my eye had turned entirely red, though perhaps it had something to do with the oddities that had occurred in the previous fight? After a while, my breathing returned to normal and my pulse quieted the redness in my eye had vanished entirely, save for a single sliver.

Content with the reversal of the crimson eye, I stepped out of the bedroom and surveyed the damage I had wrought. The headless corpse of Mustache continued to ooze blood while Skinny had not moved in the slightest. With something as simple as a knee to the face he should've recovered by now, and so I walked over to inspect him.

What I found out was that Skinny no longer had a pulse nor did he breath. I had only kneed him square in the face, something I had done numerous times to legionnaires during training. Yet this time it seemed I had used far more force than normal, his skull had caved in and a bit of his brain matter had been squeezed out his ears.

I walked out of the house a moment later, bracelets clinking musically on my left wrist. Outside I could easily hear the sound of the girl as she struggled with metal chains somewhere nearby, and so I studied the area and found that she was at the storehouse.

Half naked while also covered in blood I walked over to the storehouse, my bracelets sounding out my approach to the girl who lay ahead. At that sound she turned, her face twisted into one of horror. I looked like some wild monster from the forest, born to murder people and rip their heads off.

"It's alright!" I told her in a gentle tone, while I held up my hands as though to try and reassure her.

Her response was to cower away from me as though I would bring death with the slightest touch. She backed away from the storehouse, away from the chains she obviously wanted to remove. I noticed this, and motioned her to step further back before I walked up to the double door that covered the front of the building. With a snap of my fingers I coalesced a small axe in my right hand, an action which caused her to scream in fright.

I ignored her, as I raised the axe up and brought it down loudly on the chains. The axe cut through the cheap iron like it was made of butter, and I once more returned my Shatterblade to the dormant form. I grasped the chains and then tore them off, tossing the metal randomly behind me.

With a slight push I caused the two doors to swing inward, light slowly spilled forward to illuminate the interior of the storehouse. I stepped away from it, and gestured with my arm toward the young girl that she could progress inward. She followed through on that offering, though she crept past me carefully. I had never stopped to think, never even though to check on what was inside before letting her past.

She screamed, a scream that was far worse than any I had ever heard before. What came next would be the birth of a new nightmare that would haunt me for years to come.

I burst into the storehouse afraid that someone had attacked the girl, I prepared to summon my Shatterblade and defend her to the death. what I saw, however, was a sight that made me want to vomit. I grabbed the girl and roughly shoved her outside of the storehouse. "Don't come in!" I yelled at her, before I pushed the two doors closed behind her, and then turned back to survey the hellish scene.

The father, or I suspect it was the father, was obviously no longer alive. He had been ripped apart, his skin crudely removed with a blunt blade. He had a look of horror on his face as his eyes stared out from the skinless and hairless head, mouth gaped open. His body was suspended in the air, a pool of blood having formed below where he was located.

A hook had been rammed into his backside, and it in turn was attached to a rope. The rope that held him ran up to the top of the storehouse, and wrapped about a wooden beam. Without a seconds hesitation I sliced him down, and then sighed as I turned my gaze to the other victim.

To call her a mother anymore would be impossible, she was merely a corpse that had yet to die. Her body showed signs of abuse in more ways than one, while her clothes had been removed permanently and was not located within the confines of the storehouse. Her eyes had been burned, enough to make them useless while not so much that she would die from the trauma.

The young sell for more, the old tend to simply cause problems. It was something I had overheard in a bar while on my way to Fisk, and that sentence came back to haunt me at this moment.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you," I said to her, though I did not touch her. I knew that she would react in fear if I did that.

The woman heard my voice, heard my apology and turned to face toward me. I could tell she was trying to cry, yet her tears had all been used up long ago. She trembled as she lifted her hands up, her mouth opened and she attempted to speak. It was then I noticed that her tongue was missing, most likely cut out by the slavers. Her words she tried to speak were nothing more than slurred gibberish.

I understood anyways.

♪ ♫ ♬ ♫ ♪

I carried the litter behind me as always, pulling the unconscious Taryn. I wore a blouse that was one size too small and pants that made me feel a bit uncomfortable. My feet now had boots which had belonged to the mother of Maria.

I had managed to clothe Taryn using the old farmers clothes, the choices surprisingly quite varied. I ended up giving him a simplistic long-sleeved shirt, one that hung loose in the front and revealed a part of his stigma on the chest. If I had the time and skill I probably would have sewn up the front so as to fully hide away the mark of the Plague.

The pants were a dark brown, they fit loosely and the boots I had acquired by pilfering the ones which Skinny utilized. It was perhaps a bit rude to raid the corpses for clothes, but I had no compassion for the slavers anymore.

Behind me in the distance a roaring fire had erupted, it consumed the totality of the farm that I had come from. I did not look back, though the twelve-year old Maria often stopped for a second or two to stare before turning back around and rushing to catch up. Before we had left the farm I had spoken with her, I promised to help watch over her until she found someone who she knew to help her.

The fact that she had no more family was something she shared with me, and caused me a bit of difficulty. I could only hope that someone in the next town might know her and help out, though I doubted it given the collar around her neck.

We did not talk about what the slavers had done. I felt that Maria would prefer it that way, especially since I was certain they had not spared her their attentions. In regard to her collar I had to inform her that removing it would kill her, until we could find a proper magical tool.

I was beginning to understand why Shorty, Skara and Taryn all seemed to hate slavers. In my defense I was accustomed to slaves who lived comfortable lives, had the option to not wear a collar and were more like maids or butlers. The harshness of the slave system was something I had not fully understood until I had left my home and been exposed to the real world.

Maria had told me that there was a road to the north, about three hours away. While it was the dead of the night I had no distinct urge to stick around that death filled place, especially given the fact that I knew of some Plague who might be in the vicinity.

So I headed to the north, and then hoped to follow the road west to the small town which Maria promised me was there. Maria had not changed her clothes, and also carried a knapsack that contained some foodstuffs and canteens. It was not a heavy load, and I was happy to have her assistance. Given the oncoming night Maria carried a lantern in one hand, while she held onto the strap of her knapsack with the other.

The first hour went by with nothing all that astounding, and when the second hour finished I had only begun to grow tired. Maria on the other hand started to stagger, obviously fatigued from the recent happenings and I was forced to stop our trek while still in unknown territory. I put the litter down, then turned to my new companion.

"Perhaps we can stop here and rest?" I offered to Maria. It would be bad if she collapsed during the middle of the march to the town.

Maria nodded her head, a slow motion as she swayed ever so slightly. Her eyes were half-opened, and it was obvious to me that she only stood via sheer willpower. Before she laid down she put the lantern on the ground, then almost collapsed onto the plush surface of the plains.

I sighed, slumping to the ground with a complete lack of grace. I sprawled out, arms and legs spread wide while I stared up at the cloud-filled sky. How I wished I could see the welcome sight of the friendly stars. I breathed out a puff of air, the coolness making it semi-visible. How long had I been dealing with the insanities as of late? It felt like an eternity, yet when I thought back on it I realized almost no time at all had passed.

The trip from Fisk had been four days, then on the next day I had encountered the Plague. The day after that I had left the forest and stream campsite behind and ran afoul of the farm. Day seven? A single week?

I grumbled, and closed my eyes as I tried to forget about my troubles. I wasn't even certain if what I was doing made sense, I had basically run away from home in order to make myself better. I wanted to become someone that my father would accept, and the woman that my mother wished me to become. The strongest daughter, the greatest to ever live.

I fell asleep shortly thereafter, a deep sleep which promised me a pleasant time for dreaming. What I ended up seeing were scenes from the past week, scenes that had burned themselves into my mind and could never be forgotten. The nightmares paraded, and it was because of them that I ended up awake far earlier than I had planned.

In a way I'm glad that I had those nightmares, as when I stirred from my slumber I could hear the sound of light footsteps moving about the makeshift campsite. The growls that came meant something was out there, and when I tried to peer into the darkness all I could see were four-legged shadows.

Rather than standing up I slowly crawled over toward the lantern, my hands stretched out toward it. I gripped it, held it in my left hand and started to rise up from the ground into a standing position while the halo of light rippled outward. When I saw into the dark I began to realize that I was in trouble.

They were wolves. To be precise they were Black Wolves, or as they were called in the stories I had read as a child they were Night Stalkers. A pack of canines who favored attacking in coordination, and were well known for striking people in their sleep. While they were not as large as the Falks had been south of Fisk, the Black Wolves were larger than the average hound by quite a bit.

Could I handle a pack of wolves? I was not all too certain, I had changed over the last week yet I doubted the change had been that much. Yet as I stared at them and felt my pulse begin to build a shift came over my mind, and I began to think that maybe I stood a chance.

I started to smile, a small curl of the lips, while I could feel my blood begin to pump wildly. I lowered myself into a battle-ready stance and summoned forth a short sword into my right hand. I exhaled, the coolness of the surrounding night making it seem as though smoke billowed from my lungs.

"Come on," I said with a hint of eagerness, I could already feel my victory. All around me the world itself started to move at a slower pace, even the step of the wolves came at longer intervals which made them almost stationary from my perspective.

Two hands gripped my shoulders from behind, strength that far exceeded my own holding me where I crouched. "Calm down, you're letting it control you," a voice whispered from behind me, one that was quite recognizable.

I gasped in shock, and a hint of happiness as I turned toward the man who stood behind me. Taryn stood there, staring at me with that calm face he always wore, though I could see in his eyes a hint of concern. He peered into my eyes and I saw him flinch a bit before he spoke again, "I'm sorry."

"What?" I asked, confused, as I stood up and felt my pulse slow down. The world itself began to once more move at the regular rate, the wolves continued their pacing though they seemed to have shortened the distance. They moved in a spiral pattern, one which would eventually lead to an attack.

"I'll explain later," Taryn said, as he looked at the animals who had surrounded us. He reached down to his hip, then growled as he looked and saw nothing there. "What?! Where is my sword!"

The sword of alabaster and singing, the sword he had wielded against the Plague back near Vicna. He had wielded it with skill and grace, a weapon that seemed to hold secrets of its own. In the end all I could do was offer up a shrug and an apology. "I'm sorry?"