"Now we end this!" Mitch roared, advancing to the trio of necromancers.

"Mitch, wait!" Shouted a panicked Mitch, desperation in his voice.

And hotblooded as he was, Mitch with the glowing axe and berserker's fury, who had cleaved his way through countless abominations, only growing ever stronger, ever faster, as his vampiric ability allowed him to drain the life force of even the undead, the one time pro-PvPer was anything but stupid.

He immediately snapped his wild eyes around, glaring at Jacob. "They are right there!"

"And I can come no closer!" Jacob hissed, Jack only now sensing the man's trembling exhaustion. "I'm just barely holding onto my holy aura and the boosts I gave you two! How the hell else do you think we made it this far? Between me, Shannon, and Lauren, we're all buffed to heaven and back!"

Mitch flashed a hot glare at the trio of litches glaring at them with inhuman focus even as their skeletal hands were pointed at the giant of a horror still attempting to tear through the keep.

"So why the fuck can't we go any closer?"

"I don't know, man! Magic field? Unholy aura? Your guess is as good as mine! All I can tell you is that my Level 6 Paladin auras won't survive any closer exposure!"

Mitch gave a slow nod. "So it's up to me and Mr. Axe."

Almost as if on cue, the three undead horrors unspooled their whips of caustic living flame, flashing deadly grins their way.

"Fuck," Mitch softly said.

His friend nodded. "That shit will cut through any unenchanted armor. It will sear the flesh from our bones and jerk us off our feet, if we're not careful."

Jack swallowed, already knowing what his role had to be.

"Their shit won't cut through my shield. I don't think. I hope." He flashed a weak smile at a concerned looking Mitch. "I mean, especially now, with it being especially red."

"Jack..."

"It's not like we have a fucking choice!" Jack hissed. "Besides. I think I have something for those assholes."

His friend flashed a sad smile. "Shit, Jack I had hoped... but I get the gut feeling their ward will cancel pretty much any magic."

Jack blinked, heart pounding, struck with a crazy idea. "Maybe... maybe not. I have an idea."

"Well then hurry the fuck up, boyscout, that draconic horror is turning our way!"

And Jack nearly froze where he stood when the titan gave a roar, slowly climbing off the keep tower it had been struggling to tear down, now turning their way.

"Jack!"

Jack swallowed, desperate lips forcing out the words to the first spell he had ever learned. Before pricking his thumb, to give it that little extra kick.

"Voco Apis!" He whispered.

And much to Mitch's consternation, there was now a bright red bee the size of a humming bird floating in the air next to him.

"Jack, what the fuck?"

A bee that with a single desperate command from Jack, darted and danced through the air before making a beeling for the nearest lich, adroitly dodging at least one lashing fire whip before slamming its stinger into an empty eye socket.

Earning Jack a killing glare before his bee shriveled and died.

The undead horror flashed a fearsome smile, as if delighting in the surge of Jack's potency that he had stolen.

But Jack's cold smile was even wider.

Jacob shook his head. "Kid, if the best you can do is a summoned bee against an undead lich..."

But jack just shook his head. "Shut up and charge!" He roared, as his entire suit of elemental armor began to blaze like a crimson sun, following his own command as he rushed forward and slammed through the barrier forcing the paladin and all their buffs at bay.

You have successfully saved versus death.

All standard spells and buffs have been disrupted.

Soul Linked Bloodmagic withstands abjuration!

For a moment all was blackness, and he felt as if he were plummeting to his own death, to the hells below, glimpsing just a flash of desperately shrieking souls and the cold souless laughter of sentient nightmares torturing their prey without end.

Before opening his eyes as he roared against the pressure seeking to keep him at bay... before finally pushing through.

Deadly wardings that shoved Mitch and Jacob back ruptured and burst against Jack's own crimson armaments.

Yet he still felt the oppressive weight of their black hate freezing so many spells in his mind as they lurched forward in tattered robes with their skeletal feet, clicking teeth making it clear how eager they were to strip the flesh from his bone.

"Yeah, I don't think so, motherfuckers. Aqua Effusorium!" he roared, gambling everything that his mad gamble would work. Because for all that he was unable to access any of the complex, tightly contained spells that were heart of an enhancer's more destructive path, he was hoping that the ward would have much less of an effect against that which was intrinsically a part of the natural world, as evidenced by the air he breathed, and the clammy mist against his skin.

With that desperate resolve, he channeled the most natural of all his arts, as the blood-scribed pentagram Jack found himself within was suddenly filled by an absolute flood of frigid and frightfully pure water, a fire-hose worth of pressure quickly extinguishing the lich's whips of flame.

And then, hopefully before his inhuman enemies realized how utterly vulnerable he was to their more ephemeral attacks, now that he was out of the paladin's protective ward, he summoned his bloodflame and channeled all his terror and fury against the undead masterminds that thought nothing of the horror they had wrought.

"Ignis Sanguis!" he roared. "Ignis Sanguis!" As first one litch erupted in caustic flame that would not stop burning as Jack fiercely locked his will upon it while racing past to charge into the exceedingly confused looking central lich, lurching back only to be shield bashed by Jack who rammed his desperate blood-armored fist into its skull, screaming the deadly words for all he was worth, blood magic and the purest of elemental forces all that could pass through the deadly wards. "Ignis Sanguis!" He screamed as a second foe's head exploded with such force even he had taken damage, burning bone perforating his left leg. He knew he had to take him out first, the Arcane Perception making it clear the central figure had been the linchpin to the death wards, but the deadly look in the final litch's gaze had made it clear he had to act NOW! Before it was—

And suddenly Jack was crashing against the ground, too dizzy and nautious even to move, screaming as his final foe understood at last his weakness, clawing at Jack's soul once more.

***

For a long endless moment Jack screamed into the choking blackness surrounding him. Able to hear nothing but the frantic beating of his own heart, able to feel nothing but the awful dizziness that left his stomach roiling and his body prone, able to see nothing but his own too easily visualized doom, just knowing that that vile litch had seized his mind, and was only seconds away from bony fingers clawing Jacks throat out, if not worse, even if his water spell had destroyed their whips of flame.

Because the horrid truth of it was that it didn't matter. For all his struggles, for all that they were one final boss away from victory, it was the final stumble that had done him in, a final enemy whose mental attack he had had no chance of countering before he could bring his limited spells to bear, the only one able pierce his enemy's wards, his fate sealed the moment he had dared to do so. His bitter destruction for being such a fool as to dare the Path of Peril as inevitable as any boulder crashing down a hill before shattering to fragments against the shoals of bitter defeat.

It was in the name, after all.

His doom had only been a matter of time.

It was just the bitterest of ironies that he had only just blossomed into a true sense of himself, his potential, all he had once been. And now just month later, it was all going to be torn away again. Only this time, it would be forever. And the Jack who might or might not be bought back in a future incarnation would have no more connection to him and his struggles, triumphs, trials and tribulations that he would to a twin or clone he had never met before. He would finally be utterly and irrevocably no more.

His howl of frustrated fury was abruptly replaced by an agonized scream as he could all but taste that foul necrotic litch's cold laughter echoing inside his mind as ice cold probes of deathly sentience tore ever deeper into his mind, foul tendrils seeking to claim him as its own, forever more.

His spine shivered and his guts churned at the awful revolting chalkboard like scratching upon his soul that might have been the words "Your soul is mine, mortal!"

And in a final desperate act of revulsion he thrashed and struggled against the cloak of darkness seeming to wrap him up and consume him...

Before taking a surprised gasp of incredibly refreshing air crisp with the first frosts of autumn as he struggled free of his sweat-soaked blankets, only to find himself blinking in the light of the fire, awed and amazed to find himself in his childhood home, having fallen to sleep as he often did, in his father's favorite leather stuffed chair as his mother happily hummed while knitting together the warmest socks and sweaters a little boy could want with the fine shimmering wool only her silver sewing needles could properly knit together.

For long moments Jack grinned in sheerest relief, glad that awful nightmare of desperate struggle, perilous battles, and an adults passion, drive, and abstract goals was finally over.

His strikingly beautiful mother paused in her stitching, flashing him a warm smile as he came over to hug her, awed as he always was by just how pretty she was with her pointy ears unlike anyone else's in the town, and almond eyes that only showed their true colors when hit by the moon's gentle light.

She didn't hesitate to give him a warm kiss on his brow, for all that her hands continued their stitching. "How are you, dear?"

Jack gave her a heartfelt hug. "I'm okay, mom. I just had that nightmare again."

She nodded solemnly. "Was it the one where all your friends are trapped in an adventure without end?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, I don't know if it had no end, but there were lots of shriveled old men that didn't look very alive with whips of fire and other things that were even worse. There was even the skeleton of a dinosaur trying to destroy the keep where all the poor townfolk fled to when their town was eaten by the story."

Her mother's eyes twinkled. "A dinosaur, did you say, Jack?"

He nodded solemnly.

Her gaze gaze saddened as she gently clasped his hands. "Every other time you had that dream, you called it a dragon. Did you know that, little one?"

Jack furrowed his brow in confusion, slowly shaking his head.

Her smile brightened. "And so often, with your mind restless and your father sleeping like a babe, now would be when we would have our talks and share our lessons. Do you recall the last time we shared a lesson together, Jack?"

Jack slowly shook his head. "Didn't you teach me how to sew, once?"

Her mother beamed. "I did indeed, Jack. And, as lazy a boy as you sometimes were, lost in your fairy tales without a single dark bone in your body, when you chose to focus, you could put even your sisters to shame with your stitches." She flashed an arch smile. "Probably why they teased you unmercifully, until you were too ashamed to practice altogether."

She gave a sad shake of her head. "We had a long talk, then, your sisters and I. But the damage was done. And I'm not one to terrify my daughters, who were already bursting into tears after the gentlest of words, and even your father was in a panic. As if I would ever hurt my own flesh and blood."

Powerful hands then grabbed Jack's pudgy fingers. "But no matter, my lovely little Jack. The past cannot be rewritten, but old lessons can be remembered, and cherished skills can be perfected once more. Now. Hold our needles just like so. See how we've hooked onto this lovely silver string?"

Jack solemnly nodded, fingers pudgier than they had been in his dread adroitly holding sewing needles made of silver moonlight and shadow, that fit so comfortably in his hand.

he then looked down at what they were making. "A scarf?"

"If you like," she said. "Or perhaps a shawl. Or mayhap a sleaveless vest you can wear under your armor." She winked at his expression. "Don't worry, Jack. It can be whatever you want it to be. Now, you recognize the patter, don't you?"

Jack nodded, a slow grin spreading across his features as he realized that he did indeed recognize the pattern, his adroit fingers somehow knowing exactly what to do, threading the needle through the fabric, looping the yarn and tightening the stitch, so it was a perfect match for the others, his smile widening as the loops of yarn blossomed into a beautiful looking scarf, stitch after stitch, his fingers working so quickly it felt almost like a dream.

Until it all came crashing down in disappointment and he wanted to burst into tears, the yarn abruptly running out just as he was finally losing himself in practicing his mother's favorite passtime and, once upon a time, his own as well.

His mother's silvery gaze filled with concern. "What's wrong, Jack?"

"I'm... I can't sew any more, mom. I'm out of yarn!"

To this she flashed an impish smile. "Is that all? Well you have nothing to worry about at all, my lovely little boy. Just gather yourself some more!"

Jack furrowed his brow. "But how do I do that?"

She said nothing, just pointed to the silver mirror hanging on the wall.

A mirror he never recalled seeing before.

He frowned in mild consternation, before his eyes widened with awe. "I have a silver string sticking out of my head!" he said, his finger gently touching the string, smiling at the odd sensation this filled him with.

His mother solemnly nodded. "You do, Jack." She then solemnly handed him a pair of silver sheers. "Now why don't you snip that string right at the base? Wonderful! Oh, but hold tightly, Jack. A strand like that is all too eager to break free, if you're not careful."

Jack nodded. "Like flying a kite in the wind, right? Or fly fishing with my other dad. It's fun, but you have to hold the line just right so it doesn't break, and the fishes and kites don't slip free."

Her mother positively beamed. "A wonderful analogy! But we've never flown a kite or used a motorboat in this time and place, Jack. Now, quickly, before that thread escapes you, spool it up."

Her gentle voice grew intent. "This is very, very important, Jack. Spool it up just as fast as you can!"

And a beaming Jack did so, the slight clumsiness he would have expected in a different time and place was gone, as pudgy arms that slowly became his own did his bidding, graced with a speed and finesse unlike anything he had ever felt in his somewhat awkward adolescent, nearly adult body back home, such that the silver spindle he now found in his off-hand was positively whirring as he spooled together his yarn, torn free from the scrabbling threads even now desperate to break free of his grip.

Congratulations! You have learned the Soul Weaver specialist skills Snip, Pinch & Spool at Novice Rank 1! The memories of long forgotten lessons now fill your soul. All known Soul Weaver Skills are now Apprentice Rank 2.

Jack flashed a fierce smile as adult hands continued to spool up the threads and twist them into yarn, while simultaneously sewing the now pristine silver strands into a vest he hoped even his mother might be proud of. Tasks his hands had mastered long ago, when his mind had forever wandered through wondrous stories told by his mother's furry familiar in their shared work room, always happy to read the stories Jack would pull from the library before he and his mother began their work for the day.

You have relearned the Tier 2 Soul Weaver skill Fabricate at Apprentice Rank 2!

"Jack?"

Thread by thread, strand by strand, stitch by stitch, he would do his mother proud.

"Jack!"

Jack choked back a sob, blinking away the sting in his eyes. "I'm sorry I can never see you again. I'm sorry I ever had to go. I miss you and dad and my sisters and everyone, and this has been the most awful, most wonderful month of my life, and I've grown in ways you wouldn't, couldn't believe."

His mother, now looking up at a full sized Jack, flashed him the strangest of smiles.

"Yes, Jack, I believe I would." She then handed him a pair of silver sheers. "Now cut the string and place your finishing knot, and your vest is done," she said as a sobbing Jack drove silver sheers into the skull of the roaring litch who had just burst into his dream.

Before crashing to the ground in a heap of bones like a marionette as Jack snipped free the threads that had spooled into finest yarn, now tying off the finishing knots of a vest he would treasure all his days, made at his mother's side.

You have successfully relearned the Tier 2 Soul Weaver skill Shear at Apprentice Rank 2!

Ancient affinities locked away long ago when your mother thought you might walk a far gentler path have been awakened once more! You enjoy a Tier 3 affinity with all Soul Weaver arts! This +3 bonus is in addition to all ranks earned in the Soul Weaver school, should this class be chosen. All Tier 1&2 arts are now open to you!

He swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking past the tears in his eyes. "I love you, mom."

The beautiful elf hugged him fiercely and sobbed. "I love you too, my son. You will find the secrets of our art secure in your pouch. Now wake up, my Jack, recalling all the lessons learned by my side when your dreaming self thought you did naught but wile the days away reading books you memorized long ago. Wake up this instant, for death is eager for you still!"

Her eyes suddenly blazed with all the terrible intensity of the Grey Witches of darkest legend, and Jack quailed in sudden terror, immediately pulled out of his dream.